Piquancy and Phantasm
by BD-Z
Summary: The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and the other begins? (Edgar Allen Poe) - (Full Description Inside) -Collaboration Story with GhostlyHauntings-
1. Nevermore

**Piquancy and Phantasm**

**By BD-Z AND Ghostly Haunting**

**Rated:** M

**Pairings:** Beetlejuice/Lydia

**Warnings:** Violence, Adult Content, Crude Language, Psychological Analysis, Blood and Gore (sorry not sorry)

Source references: Quotes from Various poems and stories by Edgar Allan Poe, Characters from Beetlejuice Movie and Toon,

OC's borrowed from Ghostly Haunting( aka ForeverKnight/Rebekah) Artwork by Ghostly too (As can be seen on A03)

Beta Readers: Fairdrea and Mordelle (thanks Babes 3)

**Dedicated to all my Beetlebabes.** Even though most of you are _not_ into the horror genre and prefer the toon, this fic was inspired by many conversations. I love you all, and I hope you enjoy the chaos.

**Summary:** The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and the other begins? (Edgar Allen Poe) - This is the story of a girl and a ghost. Take a chance to read a tale of terror and horror in honor of the great horror legend Edgar Allen Poe. For this is not a tale for the weak of heart. This is not a romance to be desired but a passion that will not be denied. Beetlejuice and Lydia will learn that life in Peaceful Pines is nothing more than a Masquerade of Death, a town filled with glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm.

Chapter 1

"Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor."

The cold frigid air breezed through the ebony tresses of the girl who feared nothing. Not death, nor pain, nor spirit. She was but a hollow stone in a sea of living entities who cared only for their precious breath and wealth. Lydia felt nothing but a pit within her being.

"Early I wished the morrow; vanity I had sought to borrow, from my book... surcease of sorrow – Sorrow for the lost Lenore."

No, she lamented, she was not the lost Lenore. She was Lydia Deetz. Gently she wiped away a stray tear. The only sign of emotion that slipped past her mask as the pallbearers lowered the oak wood casket into the cold, damp earth — snow-flecked, in contrast to the luxurious finish.

"Nevermore," She said the word with a reverent breath.

The peace of her moment was broken by the obnoxious wailing of the woman beside her. Extravagant in her black mourning dress complete with a fishnet veil over her makeup and tear stained face was her mother, no - step-mother, as she was often reminding Lydia during the past few months.

The hospital was no place for a family to fall apart in Lydia's opinion, but that is, unfortunately, what had happened as her father failed steadily over the days following his last cardiac arrest. His death was completely unexpected.

At twenty-three she was an orphan, officially.

Her _Step_-mother, Delia, was doing her part at playing the grief-stricken widow while Lydia tried her best to stay as still as the stone that she envisioned herself to be during the funeral. Unwilling to recognize the woman beside her who blamed - yes blamed - Lydia for this tragic end.

Had the excuse of the young woman's unruly behavior as a teenager and inability to conform to a normal calm lifestyle not been enough to claim her father's last straining nerve, the friendship between Lydia and the handyman would undoubtedly send Charles into a fit of unrest.

Silly, Lydia had thought, that Delia would bring up such an unfounded correlation. Lydia and "Mr. Beetleman" were just friends, and they had indeed toned down their antics for the sake of her father's wellbeing. They were rarely seen together in Peaceful Pines since Lydia was seventeen and over the last six years, they kept their friendship restricted to the Neitherworld to help dissuade any further rumors.

Regardless, Delia insisted that the relationship between the two of them was boarding on inappropriate as the man had spent far too much time around her as a child and swindled money from the family for ages. He was, ultimately, forbidden from attending the funeral.

Lydia was alone.

Utterly alone.

The townsfolk who attended the service paid Delia her dues as a grieving wife. They consoled her and offered their assistance in any matter. Yet Lydia was offered nothing more than a few pats and condolences. Their sentiments were all contrived in her opinion.

The people who knew her in town never saw her as anything more than an odd child. This left her with very few options for companionship, which made it all the more disheartening that her few friends were unable to join her. Lydia had accepted the fact that the living would never truly understand her; as such, she wanted nothing more than to escape from the gawking eyes and wagging tongues of her parents' colleagues and friends. Even the family gave her space. What little there was left, that is.

Was it asking too much to want a few moments alone to say goodbye to the mortal shell that was once Charles Deetz, loving husband, and adoring father?

Once the tomb was laid to rest in the dark, dank ground, Lydia stepped forward and gazed into the abyss to which the last person from her old life, before Delia, would now reside. He had left her in the world of the living with a woman who did everything in her power to change Lydia.

Neither she nor Beej would ever forgive her for her efforts. The changing of her room and clothing due to "accidental" laundry mishaps became minor annoyances in comparison to the blatant betrayal of hiring a hypnotist to turn her into a "normal girl." She was nearly lost forever in a world of magazines, and boy crazy gossip had it not been for her ghostly companion.

The pattern hardly changed. Their struggle was legendary, even to the townsfolk. Her father rarely stepped in, determined not to cause any more strife. He loved her, she knew that, but he was also hesitant to upset either of them.

The voices picked up on the wind again while she stood at the precipice of life and death.

"Poor Kid," spoke a gentle male voice.

"Oh come off it, Danford. Delia should send the girl to an institution before she tries to off herself. That child has been nothing but one slip away from suicide."

She shivered and not due to the frosty air. The only cold she felt was the ice dripping from her Aunt's voice.

Her toes grazed the edge of the hole as she contemplated the words, 'off herself.' Unlikely, she mused. She knew what lay beyond that particular act and had no desire to risk her place in the Neitherworld. Life was but a passing phase she could manage to wait through.

The wind blew again, rustling the fabric of her long skirt against her ankles. She watched the edge with intent, realizing how little space there was between the land of the living and that dark cavern that would one day claim her flesh. She would turn cold, stiffen and then rot over the several decades following her demise.

Lydia raised her hand, one holding a dying rose - free from the pollen that would usually cause her aggravation- and dropped the deep crimson bloom onto the smooth brown wood.

The contrast once again drawing her attention. Dead Rose, Dark. Snow frozen in time, Light. The coffin containing her beloved father, Dark. Could life and death be that simple?

"Oh, Delia."

Lydia felt her body clench at the breathy feminine voice. Jane Butterfield, her father's former colleague. Her pleasant and perky tones gave Lydia the creeps and not in a way that she would have enjoyed either.

"Delia!" she called out again, "I am so sorry for your loss. I am absolutely devastated."

Delia patted her eyes with a handkerchief, smearing her makeup even more. "Oh, Jane. So good of you to be here. Charles… he would be so honored if he knew."

"Think nothing of it. You two have always been my favorite," Jane embraced Delia. One would almost think they were the best of friends rather than realtor and client.

"Thank you for being so good to us." Another mournful sniffle, "I am sure Charles would have loved to take you up on the house in Winter River but..."

Lydia didn't need to look over to know Delia was looking at her. The obvious scapegoat to give the woman who was always after a buck.

"It's quite alright. The previous owners passed a few years back, and I was able to retain the property. I have been renting it until you were able to move in. After all, no one decorates like you do." Jane gushed.

"That's very sweet of you to say, Jane but I'm afraid the country life is over for me. Without Charles... I just can't stay here anymore." Delia sniffled again.

This time Lydia did turn around, just in time to witness the wide grin on Jane's face. The fire began to rekindle inside her while she traversed the snow-covered lawn to stand beside Delia, giving her a level look.

"Hello Jane," She said dryly not bothering to offer any other pleasantries beyond that.

"Lydia dear," Jane replied with her false sympathy, "I am so so-"

"My father made it clear in his will that our home was in both of our names," she spoke in a steady voice, "This is not the place to talk about real estate. Father needs his peace and quiet, so if you don't mind..."

She gave Delia another stone cold look and walked off, floating among the tombs as her skirt swayed in the wind. She paused midway back to the road to nod to a passing spirit.

The gentle older man dressed for much warmer weather gave his condolences for the passing. Lydia smiled, accepting his words. She said nothing, learning that should anyone have witnessed her temporary disruption, her silence would give her the appearance of a woman deep in thought rather than a lunatic.

"My goodness," Jane was dumbstruck by the way the Lydia brushed her off. Had the girl not been so young _and_ the daughter of her most prestigious clients, she would have had words for her. As it were, it was Delia who spoke her mind.

"Don't mind Lydia, Jane. She is going through a lot." Her flippant tone and wave of the hand distracted Jane from the odd behavior of Lydia seemingly staring off into space before heading to the road.

"There is no need to apologize. She is mourning." At least she had that much sense to understand that funerals were touchy for some people.

"She is _always_ in mourning. Lydia was never quite right, and I told her father we needed to do something about it when she was a kid. Moving to the country did nothing to help her move on." Delia sighed and shook her head. Venting about her husband's daughter was a good distraction.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Don't tell me you forgot about Evelyn? Really, Jane. It wasn't even that long ago." Delia quirked her lips up in a sardonic smile. "Before Charles started to fade, I tried my best to convince myself that she was my child, but it was only wishful thinking. She is never going to change. Honestly, I don't even know where the girl gets that morbid fascination, but I have tried and tried again to get that kid into something other than black... or red for that matter. She is never going to grow into her artistry at this rate. Have you seen her photography?" Delia made a guttural noise that was unbecoming.

Jane only offered a nod of understanding and sighed at the thought of poor Evelyn Deetz.

"Do you think she remembered what happened to her mother?" Jane asked.

"No. I don't think so. Charles said they both blocked the memory out." She sighed and faced the grave. "Oh Charles, you sentimental fool. He never wanted to interfere with Lydia's interests, you know. He was always worried that forcing her to change would trigger some reaction."

"I take it this is why he never took to selling the Peaceful Pine property to take over the Maitland house," Jane mused.

The two women nodded to passing neighbors and townsfolk as they wandered down to the road to the vehicles parked along the curb. Lydia was long gone, her tacky yellow-green car with the weird bumper that almost made the car look like a grinning character was no longer among the line of automobiles.

"Lydia has made it difficult for us to leave Peaceful Pines," She admitted. "I'm sure you will find someone to take over the Maitland property. As for this house, let me talk to Lydia and see if I can convince her to come back with me to the city."

Jane beamed. "You could always encourage the girl to go on a long sabbatical. You deserve to regain your freedom, Delia. There is no reason to take care of her anymore. She is no longer a child."

"Quite Right." Delia nodded and sighed dreamily. "New York sounds lovely, but I think a sabbatical sounds just divine. Maybe I will go to Europe instead. That is if you can help me sell a few other of Charles useless properties. He was such a hoarder, I swear."

Laughing, Jane held open the car door of the Deetz ancient vehicle for Delia to climb in.

"I will do what I can. Be safe and good luck."

Delia gave Jane a nod and a smile before the door closed and began her journey to the house she no longer saw as home.

All she had left to do was convince Lydia to grow up and move on. Perhaps she could bribe her with pamphlets of those catacomb tours in France. It's just weird enough to work, she thought.

"Yes, Bertha. Thank you. I appreciate the call. Daddy's funeral went well. How are you two? I hope everything is alright." Lydia was on the phone in the living room walking around with the cordless phone Delia insisted was chic and a "must have."

She missed the old cord phone, where she used to twist her finger into the wire periodically to distract her mind. Not anymore. The technology was changing, and she had to accept it. Pacing across the carpet, Lydia listened as her friend gave her condolences and well wishes.

"Everything is fine, Lydia" Bertha spoke matter of fact; however, Lydia didn't miss the sardonic tone the layered beneath her words. "It was nothing more than a silly domestic disturbance. I swear they could have just sent Allen out. He could have handled it all by himself. I'm so sorry I missed the service. Did Prudence make it?"

Lydia sighed. "No. She called this morning to tell me there was a highway accident and they needed her services in Eagle Hill."

"Ugh, that's terrible. I hope it wasn't too serious... I mean, well. You know what I mean" Bertha's voice wavered. She had seen horrible things since her time on Peaceful Pines police force to which Lydia gladly shared her ear as her friend confided the most atrocious crime scenes in detail. Lydia was surprised the force didn't offer a better psychological service for their officers.

Strange how the lives of her friends had changed after High School. The things each of them wanted to do were so different from the paths their lives ended up following

Bertha, a cop. Prudence, a medical examiner. Lydia, well... she was in between jobs.

"She did say there were no kids this time, if that helps," Lydia remarked. She knew full well how difficult that subject was on her friend. "Speaking of your partner, how is he?"

"Allen? Well, he's fine, I guess. Still dealing with his grandma's passing. The poor guy. He should get out and start dating to get out of his funk. You know, you should take him out. He likes you. Allen has never looked at a girl the way he looked at you that day in the cafe."

"I only met him once!" Lydia blushed, shaking her head in protest over yet another set up regardless of the grin that began to surface at the attempt.

"So? Both of you are so stubborn. It's just a date and if things happen to heat up…"

Lydia laughed. Thankful for her friend's ability to bring a little light into her day. "No thank you, I had enough trouble beating down a dateline when I was fourteen. Besides, Beej would probably give him hell."

This time it was Bertha's turn to laugh. "Don't you think Mr. Beetleman is a little too overprotective of you? You are not a kid anymore and your dad..."

As Bertha's voice trailed off, Lydia remained silent. The moment was too touchy, too tender. And in that silence, the front door opened and closed. Delia was home.

"Don't worry about it, Bertha. Everything is going to be okay. I will see you and Prudence soon. Maybe we can have coffee tomorrow or something before the crazies decide to give you two more work."

"Oooo, that was morbid," Bertha chuckled, and Lydia shrugged knowing her friend wouldn't see. "Alright, Lydia. I'll talk to you later. Bye."

Lydia hung up and smiled. Despite their different paths, they remained friends. Close as can be. The sisters she never had. She didn't hold it against them that they couldn't be at the funeral. As for Beej, he would have been there for her had it not been for Delia.

"Lyyyyyydia!" Delia called out. "Are you cooking something?"

Lydia released a deep breath to calm her agitation and returned to the kitchen. "I was, but Bertha called."

Her step-mother snorted and called out not realizing Lydia was back into the room. "That girl, honestly. She has to settle down soon and just get over her little problem."

"Stillbirth isn't a little problem." Delia jumped when she heard Lydia speak from directly behind her.

"Good Lord, Lydia! You nearly scared me to death," She cried out.

_Promises, promises,_ Lydia thought as she rolled her eyes. She returned to her cutting board, where she had already sliced tomato and squash. She was preparing one of her favorite comfort foods to get through the night. She began working her knife, sharpened by the block nearby, to cut thin slices of zucchini.

"Bertha was called into a disturbance. She apologized for not being able to make it," she explained shortly.

"Yes, well, people were not exactly thrilled that you left so quickly. Jane was rather perturbed by your rude-"

"Jane Butterfield is nothing more than a graveyard leech," Lydia snapped at her. "Mother, she has been taking Daddy for a fool for ages."

"Don't you dare call your father a fool. He was a good man. A good and trusting man. He put up with your _Beetleman_," Delia snapped right back. She put her hands to her face as real tears fell this time. She huffed out and muttered. "You were always so impossible."

"So you have said," Lydia muttered in reply.

"Lydia, you are cutting those wrong," Delia criticized.

The knife stopped when Lydia froze to look incredulously at her. Delia stood tall and averted her gaze with a blink. She was taking the high handed road while Lydia felt her ire rise slowly.

"I'm cutting them just fine. You weren't planning on staying home anyway. Didn't you have a date?" Lydia dug with her words.

"Excuse me, Young Lady, I just buried my husband. How dare you insinuate that..."

"That you were making plans with the cardiologist to have coffee after the service was over?" she challenged. "I don't care what you do, Delia. You have said it before. You are not my mother."

There was a silence between the two that turned near aggressive. Lydia did her best to control herself. She could feel the distaste rise with each passing moment.

"Your father would be ashamed of you," Delia spoke. "You have no respect for anyone. You shunned the entire town except for your two odd friends. You spend time with a creepy old man who NO ONE in this town really knows, and you blatantly go out of your way to be a complete embarrassment to me!"

Delia wailed, and Lydia froze. That first part struck like a dagger. She could feel herself deteriorate with each accusation. Memories began to surface of each time Delia insulted her. Each time she would flippantly disregard Lydia's dreams and fascinations. The unconditional love that she showed a dog, who was nothing more than her best friend stuck in canine form, in comparison to the oppressive parenting she bestowed upon her.

"I have tried and tried again to fix you, Lydia. Nothing helps, and I swear if you hadn't been so damaged after your mother's death, I would have blamed her supposed accident on your behavior. How can you be so cold at your fathers funeral? He's dead Lydia! Dead! Do you not care? Do you think he will come back for you or something? Do you think he's going to become a ghost and come home? Because I have news for you. Life doesn't work that way."

Lydia held her knife tighter and turned away from the cutting board to stare at the raving woman. When had she caught up to her in height? Delia didn't seem so big anymore. She was frail with the exception of her hips. Those of a woman who birthed a child... but never did. Did she? Lydia observed the way she paced around the kitchen, standing before Lydia right near the end of that last portion of her rant.

"You don't understand anything, do you?" Delia accused.

Lydia watched the rage in Delia burn brighter. The light of life inflaming her passions as she spoke of a subject only to which Lydia was already an expert. She knew more than the woman before her ever would, she realized.

"I think you need to leave. Grow up, Lydia. Move on. For heaven's sake, date someone and get on with your life."

Did blood cause the color to flush Delia's face?

"I'm calling Jane in the morning. We are selling this house, and I'm going back to the city. Figure-"

Silence.

Then more silence as Delia began to gurgle... choke... cough...

Then Lydia looked down at her hands.

Blood.

As Delia hit the floor, Lydia realized that the kitchen was covered in the same deep crimson liquid and it began to pool around the woman, pouring from the sickening wound on her neck. Her eyes, wide... fear... then nothing...

Lydia stood there, holding tight to the blade in her hand.

"Aww, Babes."


	2. Red Satin Ribbon

"Years of Love have been Forgot, In the hatred of a minute" Edgar Allan Poe

Blood was splattered upon the countertop, on the cabinet, and even on the fridge but no amount of gore could faze him. Beetlejuice was used to scenes that were far more grotesque. The sickening sound of the way blood oozed from the flesh was as normal as listening to water running down a river.

What bothered him wasn't the death that he witnessed, no, it was the motionless woman in the middle of the carnage. As still as a statue, she took in the moment at the act that she had performed not but seconds ago.

"Aww Babes," Speaking gently, he didn't want to frighten her.

Floating behind her, Lydia remained still, while his feet never touched the floor for fear of making a bigger mess. Touching her shoulder with one hand, the other grazed down her arm to the hand that held the deadly weapon. Thankfully, her hand released it into his custody.

"Lyds." When he spoke, she turned to face him.

"I..." She started, "I think the blood got on the vegetables."

Beej grinned showing all his crooked teeth. While she was still vacant and taking in all that had happened, he was relieved when he realized that she wasn't going to go into hysterics.

"Come on, Babes." Placing the knife back onto the cutting board, he took her hands. He maintained his position behind her as he pulled her to his chest. His voice was still calm. "Say them."

Lydia's breath hitched, and a series of tingles went down her spine as she shivered in his embrace. As per their ritual, she said his name thrice, but the transfer was far less spectacular than usual before they were standing in his Roadhouse. Turning her head to him, her ear was close to his lips while her neck was exposed to him. No longer distracted by the bloody mess of her Step-mother's body, she finally was able to form words.

"I... killed her." She said softly.

For all of the years that he had known his Lydia, she had never turned her neck into him in such a way. The signal alone would have been enough for him to either push his luck or tease her relentlessly, but neither seemed like a good option right now. Not when he knew that her world, or at least the one that he helped to fabricate for the sake of her innocence, was starting to shatter.

Lydia had killed, and now the time had come...

He nodded when she admitted her crime. "Shit happens."

Letting go of her body, he allowed her hands to fall back to her sides until she wrapped them around herself. "Hang on a sec; I'll be right back." He grinned at her and was pleased to see her return it even though it had been a little lackluster.

Today would be crucial if he was going to get her back to the way she was before her old man kicked the bucket. Beej cursed himself when he tripped over the unintentional summoning of a bucket. Kicking it, he winced at the accidental pun. This sick place had a fucked up sense of humor.

Eventually, he got to his neighbor's door and knocked. Ginger cautiously poked her head out from behind the door; it was very unusual for him to knock instead of just popping in unexpectedly.

"What do you want, Beetlejuice?" The delicate pink spider glared up at him. He would have found it funny if he had not known that Lydia was about to be in for the shock of her short life.

"I need ya ta watch over Lyds for me. She's a wreck and not in the good way, know what I mean?" He shrugged and tilted his head over in the direction of the living dead room as they came to know it as.

"Why, you gotta hot date or somethin' that you didn't tell her about?" She rolled her eyes.

"Funny," Beej ignored her jib and floated off. Thankfully, there were no more attempts at puns tripping him up on his way back.

Still standing where he had left her was Lydia holding herself. Now that he had a good look at her from the front, he noticed that blood was all over her face and neck. It was everywhere, from down the path of skin that dipped into her cleavage, to her hands, and all over her dress. The kid was a mess.

"Beetlejuice, I don't know what's goin' on but..." Ginger walked into the room ready to tell off her ghostly neighbor but stopped dead in her tracks as she took in Lydia's blood-soaked body.

"Ging here is gonna help ya get cleaned up. I'll be back." He offered another grin and then vanished into thin air... well, sort of.

"Everything is gonna be ok, Lydia," Ginger spoke gently as she maneuvered her tiny legs over to the girl. "The first kill is always messy."

Beetlejuice took one look around the kitchen and chuckled. The girl sure did make a mess. Delia lay on her side, hand near her throat while the other rested helplessly reaching out to where Lydia once stood. Her throat was cut cleanly and showed no signs of force. It was still oozing, but he was sure that Lydia's knife was freshly sharpened. Leaning down, he lifted the dead woman's head to get a good look at the wound.

"Hey, Mrs. D." He said casually. "Went too far this time, huh? Yeah, you had it coming one of these days."

Releasing her head, it fell back against the floor with a thud.

"Lydia would never have been a normal kid. No matter what you tried. You had all the ditz, and none of the sense Ol' Chucky had. He knew to stay outta her way. I don't know what you did to finally set her off, but the kids got some stomach. First few times I killed I got queasy, nearly puked my guts all over. Not Lyds. She's a tough cookie." He paced around the kitchen, taking note of all the blood. "No thanks to you."

He nodded at the mess and clapped his hands together. Juicing all the blood off the walls, floor, and countertops, it floated in the middle of the room. It wasn't long before Delia's body joined in on the gravity-defying swirl of gore.

"Chuck never knew what I knew about the girl. You were getting too close, but I did my damndest to protect them. Tried my best to give that kid a good childhood with her old man. Neitherworld magic is so unpredictable. Sometimes it works, sometimes it don't but you, Mrs. D? You were so easy to mess with. Could never get old Chucky to fall into the kind of daze the way you did."

Beej floated the mess out of the back door and into the old car. The body flopped into the passenger seat while the blood continued to play mid-air blob in the back seat.

"Nothin' personal but I can't let Lyds get caught. You were a fun laugh at times, and I'm loving the red satin ribbon that she gave ya." Beej threw the car into gear and began driving away from the house. "What's wrong, Mrs. D? Got nothin' to say? Never knew you to be so quiet."

Beetlejuice cackled as he drove deep into the woods that connected Peaceful Pines and Winter River. Soon, he would find a nice icy ridge, and all of the heat would be away from his Babes. With luck, she might get some free shit out of the deal from the locals. Sympathy. Breathers were so easy to manipulate.

Lydia stood in the bathroom that Ginger called her own, and away from the disgusting growth of fungi that Beetlejuice had allowed to fester in his. Gently, the spider touched Lydia's blood covered hand. As she attempted to comfort the shocked mortal, she felt a light grow within.

"I remember when my first husband died. Oh, the mess was horrendous. I was lucky back then. The forensics that the recently deceased talk about wasn't developed the way it is now. You know that old trick, the first to cry, is the real victim? No one could imagine that such a delicate little flower like me was capable of murder." As she spoke, the remaining blood on her tiny hands had begun to lessen, almost as if it was being absorbed. "Take it from me, Lydia, if you keep looking frail and demure then no one will suspect a thing."

Lydia's top was splattered with blood and practically soaked through. She handed it over to Ginger, not caring that she was in nothing but her bra. Sadly, her skirt was in a similar sorry state, with a sigh, she removed it as well. At least black was easy to clean.

As Ginger held the garments, the moisture appeared to vanish around the edges of the splatters that were coagulating into the black fabric.

"Did I ever tell you I was in Vaudeville? Well, that was a time indeed. I was a dancer, and Marty was a bastard. He never believed in me, but I told him that I was meant for great things, and you know what he said? He said I was better off breeding his brats and scrubbin' his feet." Ginger laughed. "Oh, was he surprised when I took my kitchen knife to his gut."

"I used a knife too," Lydia said in a voice as clear as glass while her eyes glazed over as she mentally retraced her actions.

"Oh yes, it's terribly messy, but you will get the hang of it when Beetlejuice gets back. He can show ya the ropes." She laughed again, "Or maybe how to use them."

Lydia didn't know what to say to that, and so she turned to the sink to turn on the tap. Using the clean water, she washed off her hands and face until the last traces of blood were swirling down the drain. Fully satisfied that she was now clean, she picked up a clean towel and began to dry herself.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" She asked. "We never talked about your life."

Ginger looked up at her, all innocence and smiles. "What are you talking about Lydia? I told ya, I was a dancer. I was fantastic too. Tap dancing is my life. Oh! I have a new move to show you, watch. Ta da ta tatata dada ta." She tapped along, her legs going a mile a minute.

"No, I mean about your husband." She prodded.

"Husband?" Ginger looked at Lydia curiously. "Um. Lydia, dear, where are your clothes?"

Satisfied with his work, he watched the blood turn the fresh layer of snow into a strawberry icy before mixing it with the car fluids.

Blood had been splattered all along the rocks in the ravine, and Delia's body was now placed in a way that it looked like she had been thrown from the window. The glass cuts on her body that he added helped to solidify the realism of the accident. He had even forced some of the blood back into Delia's body so that it could ooze out inline with the gravitational pull.

No one could say that his Lyds had anything to do with this.

Beetlejuice grinned.

"So long, Mrs. D. Good knowin' ya. Have fun wherever you went cuz you sure as hell ain't in my world." For good measure, he cackled again and left the scene of destruction to return to his Roadhouse.

"Babes!" He called out. "I'm home!"

He snickered at how domestic the phrase sounded. Not that he minded.

"Lyds!" He called again.

"Beej." Leaning against a wall at the base of the stair, stood Lydia. Her familiar red outfit contrasted against the pale of her skin. She looked like death.

He watched her, waiting for any hint of movement. Finally, she moved across the room and wrapped her arms around him before she pressed her face into his chest and cried.

"What's going on here?"

Dedicated to the job, Bertha and her partner Allen drove along the streets through Peaceful Pines. While she drove carefully, she was exhausted and slightly disappointed in the fact she was unable to be there for her friend on what could have possibly been the worst day of her life.

"So stupid." She muttered under her breath.

Allen blinked and looked her way. He knew what today was, and he had felt obligated to help out his partner in any way that he could. He had even offered to drop her off at the cemetery for the funeral, but she had refused, saying that he would need backup in case the call that they had received would escalate beyond a domestic incident. Loyalty was a strong point in Bertha.

"I'm sure that she understands. So, don't beat yourself up over it." He encouraged.

"Oh, right, sure. You don't have to feel guilty for breaking a promise. It's not like she is your best friend." She grumbled, but Allen just shook his head indulgently at her.

"See, she already has two great friends already." He chuckled.

"Three," Bertha stated blankly as she turned a down a darkened street. The woods were an unfortunate separation between the town and residential area, but they didn't call it Peaceful Pines for nothing.

"Who's the third?" Allen asked.

"Why, getting jealous?" Bertha chuckled.

"Funny, Bertha. Really funny." He grumbled. "I'm just curious. After all, she is your best friend."

"And the crush that you have on her means nothing? I see how it is." By now, she had already poked enough fun at him that he no longer took offense at those kinds of jabs. Instead, he just rolled his eyes. "He's the old handyman that worked for her folks. He's cool as far as creepy old men go."

Allen frowned. "She hangs out with a creepy old handyman?"

Bertha laughed out loud. "Mr. Beetleman is just full of crap. He's no handyman. He only looked like he was one, so he had a reason to hang out with her."

The frown deepened as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Why would she let a guy like that in her life? Is he some sort of smeerlap? A..." He trailed off as soon as Bertha's eyes shot wide open.

"Oh, hell, no! He would have never! He always took care of us and made sure that we were safe. He was like the uncle we never had to both me and Prudence. In fact, his niece was weird too, and as far as I know, the entire Beetleman family was off their rocker... but they would have never hurt us!"

Allen raised his hands. "Okay, okay. I was just checking. Seems kinda weird if you ask me. So, what's this guy like?"

Bertha grinned again and gave him a side eye. "If it's any consolation, you two had the same hair at one point. Maybe you are distantly related."

"Now who's full of crap, Bertha." He laughed, but she didn't join in. Instead, her eyes were trained on the road.

The road showed signs of recent travel due to the funeral procession; however, the officers noticed there were skid marks that ran along the edge of the road that veered in a hazardous direction. Not only that, there were plenty of dangerous patches of black ice, and the rail at the sharpest turn of the road was now suspiciously missing a large chunk.

Slowly Bertha pulled their car over and flicked on their lights so they could see while alerting any random passers-by that they were halted on the road.

As she got out, Allen followed.

"What do you think..." He trailed over and walked to the edge while Bertha examined the road.

Looking downward, he used his mag light to scan along the dangerous precipice. There he saw what looked like faded tail lights in the darkened pit. With the fading light of day, he could hardly see anything, but with a quick twist of his light, he then saw a body.

"Klote." A wave of raw energy washed through his body, causing his stomach to lurch.

"Uh... Bertha." Calling over his shoulder to her, she walked over while scratching her scalp.

"This makes no sense. There was just one set of tire marks. No other vehicles and... Oh my god!" Bertha cried out.

Taking her flashlight, she held her breath as she highlighted the car and instantly recognized the plates. She dared not breathe as she swept her light over to the body. With a sudden cry, she ran back to the vehicle.

"This is Officer Brown! We have a Code A-10... A-11 on Chester Drive, 1 mile away from the Peaceful Pines Cemetery... I think it's Mrs. Deetz!"


	3. Believe nothing you hear

"Believe nothing you hear and only one half that you see." - Edgar Allan Poe

Lydia cried for what seemed like hours in Beetlejuice's arms. Not that he minded, she had hardly ever held him in this sort of level of desperation and need. She had always been so strong. Never one to cave in the face of fear or adverse circumstances. No one could break her; not even the bullies could crack her and destroy her streak of civility and compassion. Seeing her like this - now after so many years- it made him itch.

Her curled up body was a temptation that he denied himself after so many years in the role of best buds. She summoned him into her life and not to be one to look a gift horse in the mouth; he accepted the change in the monotony that she had so generously offered. Of course, he had hoped that she would have been older. Eleven was a tricky age.

With a tenderness that he would have never shown to another soul, living or dead, he let his fingers brush through her hair. Hell would freeze over before he ruined their friendship by jumping the gun. Urges be damned. After more than twelve years, he finally felt that he got what he wanted where she was concerned. Trust.

Her gentle breath and beating heart against his chest proved to him that she was content to be in his arms. Years ago, he had shut down any hope of their deal coming to complete fruition. She was only a kid, and he reveled in the half freedom that she had provided until either the girl snapped or died. Neither seemed like an option while she was still a child, and he had no regrets allowing the kid to flip his world upside down.

Twisting her body, Lydia wiggled with a grunt until her face pressed against him and sniffled snot onto his shirt. Chuckling, he adjusted himself so that she could stretch against him.

Oh yeah, that's good, he thought as she wrapped her arms around his torso and squeezed.

Ignoring his baser urges, he rested his head against the back of his recliner and listened to the girl breathing. Hypnotic in its rhythm. Perhaps one day, he would come to miss this sound.

Beetlejuice had a plan, one that had been brewing in his system for ages. Only now he was able to act upon it. Lydia would join him in this endless farce of an afterlife to become one more companion to keep him from the brink of insanity.

Now that she had taken that first step, he wouldn't be content to let her go on with her existence as if she were just another flesh bag waiting for their heart to stop beating. He wanted Lydia more than even he expected when he first saw those big brown eyes.

Again, the warm little body snuggled against him, causing his eyes to close. Shit, this kid was gonna be the life of him one of these days. Shifting again, she wiggled until her knee rested between his.

"Okay… that's…. Lyds." He groaned and murmured into her hair, "I should take you home now before things get outta control." Her mumbled little moan and responsive snuggle made him chuckle again. He decided to take his chances by kissing the top of her head.

He pulled at his power, that was now subtly changing since Delia's demise, and transported Lydia back to her world. Soon enough, she would learn about the shift in the protocol in regards to their deal, but for now, she needed her rest, and he needed to do some reading…. and get his _sandworm_ under control.

When they arrived, the house was deadly silent. Dim moonlight illuminated the scene. It was one of those cold winter nights that Lydia loved so much. Beetlejuice narrowed his eyes at the bedspread. The pale rose color nearly turned his stomach, knowing he was going to put Lydia in the middle of something so far off Lydia's aesthetic. He really missed Lydia's old cobweb comforter. Damn meddling woman, he thought. He didn't believe for one moment that she had a "laundry incident." It was, in both his and Lydia's opinion's, a blatant excuse to be rid of his Babes personal taste in decor.

Regardless, he carried her to the bed, juicing the fabric out of the way so he could place her on the mattress. She rolled over and moaned his nickname when he tucked her in.

"Damn, Babes." He muttered. "Do that again, and I'm gonna have a _hard_ time walkin' away."

Lydia's lips curled, her eyes opening to little slits. "Very funny, BJ."

"Don't make me join you," he taunted with a grin of his own.

A moment of silence passed between them almost as if she was going to say something to make him regret his teasing, but with a sigh, she rolled over instead.

"Dirty old ghost..." she muttered to herself.

He chuckled, taking a step back from the bed, and watched her curl into herself for a moment before he left her to sleep.

Wandering through the halls, he poked his head into the Deetz's old bedroom. Curiosity winning out over whether or not the late duo were keeping any juicy secrets, Beej nudged the door open and stepped inside.

Clean and feminine, Charles didn't exactly get much of a say in the decor for the rest of the house, so Beetlejuice wasn't surprised by the nonexistence of masculinity. He was sorely disappointed in the lack of dirty material. Not even any racy undies and no suggestive literature… nothing good as far as he could see. Those two were squeaky clean.

Disgusted with the shortage of entertainment, he was starting to wonder if Lydia was really Chuck's kid.

Leaving the room, he headed back downstairs to confirm that he had removed all evidence of Delia ever coming home. He could hide a murder. There was no doubt that he could fake a death scene, and he was positive that no one would be able to pin the 'accident' on Lyds.

Come morning she would already have to face facts and the way that he saw it; the kid can go one of two ways: One, she will either accept the truth or two, he would have to do something drastic… again.

—

Allen had seen many accidents. Some minor and some serious, but this one was something else altogether. It was the worst accident in the area since the famed double fatality off of the Winter River bridge from many years earlier.

Neither he nor his partner Bertha were on the force at that time. In fact, they were all still teenagers in their respective schools. The news would hardly make a big deal in a large city, but in the collection of small towns, an accident taking out a highly respected hometown business owner and his wife would be right up there with a homicide.

This incident - widow crashing into a ravine after her husband's funeral- would be talked about for years.

Bertha's skin, ordinarily fair, appeared ghostly in the glow of the flashing red and blue lights. She did her best to hold herself together, but he could see the worry slipping through her professional facade. Their camaraderie never went beyond their shifts, and only rarely did they ever meet outside of their uniforms. One distinct exception being the time when Bertha was recovering from her own personal tragedy. He was sympathetic to her pain, and as someone who spent several hours with her, he did his best to keep their shifts as light-hearted as possible.

"Wat een kutzooi!" He muttered as he stared at the disaster below.

Bertha turned her attention to him and away from the wreckage that was being brought back up to the street. Her eyes looked desperate.

"You don't think she was in there, do you?" Bertha asked. He knew that she was referring to the girl that they were just talking about only a couple of hours ago.

"They haven't found a second body," he offered, but that didn't mean that she wasn't thrown further. At least they knew that the car didn't have a passenger in the seats. Obviously, these were things that he wasn't going to share, so instead, he tried to keep it light.

"Hey, you could just call her. Just in case, you know?"

A pained look crossed her face, "If she's home, how do I tell her?"

"Bertha!" Cried the soft voice of Prudence. She was breathless and frazzled, but quickly, she composed herself.

"Oh, thank god! You're here." Bertha broke all sense of professionalism as she hugged her friend. Even after all these years, they were still awkward with their height differences. Prudence pushed her glasses up her nose and offered a consoling smile. Of the two, Prudence was in control of her emotions. Her years behind the pages of books and cadaver tables helped her maintain a steady nature.

In contrast, Bertha was a slave to her emotions.

"I just had a look at Mrs. Deetz. Poor Lydia is going to be so upset." Her voice squeaked and held back a sniffle for her friend's loss.

"She wasn't in the car." Bertha breathed out in relief.

"No. Only her mom. Ramone mentioned that she had left the funeral in Mr. Beetlemans old car before anyone else did."

"See, I had a feeling she was alright," Allen put his hand on Bertha's shoulder and gave them a quick squeeze before letting go. "You, on the other hand, need a coffee. Come on. The others can take care of the scene. and I'll take care of the reports later."

Prudence nodded at Allen's wise assessment of his partner, "I'll call you when we have everything processed."

As he guided his partner back to their car, he noticed how Bertha's shoulders were trembling. This time, he drove, and as they made their way into town, he took extra care to avoid any of the icy spots.

"Hey," he started, and when she looked at him, he offered her a pat on her hand. "It's gonna be okay. I'll drive you and Prudence over to the Deetz's place in the morning after the shift. Just let her sleep for the night. There's no sense in making an already bad day worse."

"Then, it will just be two bad days in a row."

Allen winced at her response.

Her room was silent when she drifted awake. She was alone in her bed, still dressed in her Neitherworld attire, and Beej was nowhere in sight.

Sliding out of bed, she went to her dresser to pull out a proper nightgown. She quickly dressed and slipped on a pair of slippers to protect her toes from the chilly air and cold floors.

The room was freezing, but the thermostat was down the hall, which required her to face the drudged air. Dad wasn't around to fiddle with the dial obsessively till the perfect temperature was achieved anymore. Now she would have to be the one to do it.

Her weight caused the floorboards to squeak as she traveled down the hallway to the little box. Her fingers raised, sliding the dial-up, down and then up again. She remembered the steady seventy-five Delia insisted on.

So, she bumped it up to eighty.

With a shiver, she wrapped her arms around herself, but before she started for her room, she noticed the lights on downstairs. She must have left them on before Beej took her from the scene of the crime.

Her memories replayed that quick moment between life and death. The way Delia's face changed expression from fury, to shock, until finally to the realization that she was dying.

Shaking herself, Lydia changed course and headed down the stairs into the living room where she found Beetlejuice. Her eyes lingered on him. She took in his casually relaxed pose on her dad's old recliner as he read a thick tome of a book. It was one that she had briefly seen in his room only once before. The Handbook for the Recently Deceased. She remembered lifting the cover to take a peak, but before she could open it, Beej took it from her while teasing her that reading was boring and there was fun to be had. "No one likes a bookworm," he joked before making it visual.

Lydia's lips curled up in a sardonic smile when he licked his finger and flipped a page.

"No one likes a bookworm, Beej" she spoke gently so as to not startle him.

Glancing up at her, he pushed his rarely used glasses up his nose and grinned. He swiftly marked his place in the book with a dusty, old, and torn bookmark before snapping it shut.

"Yeah well, I'll take bookworms over sandworms any day, Lyds." He moved the book off to his side and uncrossed his legs.

Lydia marveled at how well he fit into the casual setting of her house. HER house, finally and officially. The nightgown fluttered around her body as she came over to him, disregarding the sofa entirely in lieu of sitting in his lap.

He didn't complain, but he did grunt and Lydia was not so innocent to not notice a stiff reaction. She hid her grin by pressing her lips together and snuggling her head under his neck.

Despite what lore had led her to believe, ghosts were not always freezing. Sure a few of them could suck the heat and energy around them as if they were nothing but a freezing black hole but Beej, no, he was always warm. Most of the Neitherworld citizens felt warm to her, but her ghost was far warmer. She had felt safe with him, no matter what crazy adventure they went on.

His hand grazed her hip gently as it traveled up to brush her hair off her exposed shoulder. The nightgown slipped a little, and neither felt the need to cover it right back up.

"Beej?"

He grunted to let her know he was listening.

"What's gonna happen now?"

His body rose and fell with his sigh. Turning his head, he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

"We wait." Beej brushed a finger against the skin of her shoulder. She felt her lips curl up again. "You gonna be okay?"

"Oh gee, where did this sensitive, caring person come from?" Lydia teased

He vocalized his disgust, and she giggled while snuggling closer than before.

"I don't know. Everything is just so …" she trailed off. "What did you do with her?"

"I … I can't tell ya."

"Well, why not?"

"Cuz if I tell ya, you won't be surprised when the fuzz comes around."

Lydia pushed against his chest to look into his widening eyes. His expression faltered as he tried to process how close her face was to his, but she had hardly noticed.

"I really did kill her." She stated. "No illusion. It was real."

Beej gulped and cleared his throat. "Um.. uh… yeah."

Her eyes searched his face for any hint of disappointment or mistrust. He was licking his lips, and she felt a light twitch against her thigh.

"You," she paused and frowned, "you've killed."

"Uh huh," he breathed when she shifted her weight on his lap.

"Ginger too?"

"Nnng," he groaned and nodded. Lydia's smile twitched as she settled back against him.

"I get the feeling you've been keeping secrets from me, Beetlejuice."

He squeezed his legs to alleviate the pressure and the torture while Lydia, for her part, pretended not to notice.


	4. Mystery Explore

"Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore..." Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

Lydia's last attempt at sleep was being thwarted by something that she had absolutely no control over, the sunlight peeking in through the living room window.

Just as she turned her head to avoid the bright glare, she felt a mass of movement from beneath her. The mass grunted, equally disturbed. Far different from any other morning wake up, Lydia surfaced further into consciousness. Through blurry morning vision, she noticed that the magenta shirt that her face had been pressed against was partially unbuttoned and untucked. With a blush, she moved her hand, that had somehow slipped beneath his shirt, back into safer territory.

Beej snorted and rolled to his side, capturing Lydia in his arms and squeezed her. She gasped and longer on the recliner, they were lying spread out across the couch. Whereas moments ago she was on top of his chest, now she was squished between him and the back cushion.

With a laugh, Lydia pushed.

"Wha, whoa," Falling with a thump, Beej glared up at the offending person who dared disturb his sleep. Upon seeing her leaning over the edge of the couch cushion, he stilled himself from throwing a few choice words. To his bemusement, Lydia's shoulder was still peaking out of her nightgown and her hair rivaled Medusa's on a good day.

"Sleep well," she asked. Her lips parted as she grinned at him. In his stupor he was unaware of his own disheveled appearance; His hair stood wiry and wild, his shirt was barely held closed, and a thin line of drool had dried on his face. Lydia tried really hard not to laugh out loud.

The snappy retort that he was brewing was interrupted by a knock on the front door. Both spun to face the door before they turned back to share a wordless and troubled exchange. Lydia felt like she was going to hurl. Beej took control of the situation when he noticed the color drain from her already pale skin.

"Go upstairs and get dressed, Babes." Pushing himself up off the floor, he offered his hand to her. Accepting his gesture, she stood beside him.

"Beej…"

"Hey what are best buds for? I sat with ya all night just to make sure you weren't alone," Giving her a stern expression, he hoped that she would pick up on his train of thought.

"Guess Delia's coffee with that doctor turned into breakfast." She muttered looking away. "I'll be right back."

After adjusting her nightgown, she slid off the couch. As she ascended the stairs, she listened carefully as Beej went to answer the door.

Grumbling, Beetlejuice pressed a hand to his face as he attempted to shake off those feelings that the girl had stirred within him. She had been testing all of his Will Power. So much so that the little bugger was kicking around in his noggin, and telling him to stop being such a fool.

With another knock, Beej threw up his hands in disgust. Minus the jacket, he juiced his appearance back into order before he began to stomp across the room.

"Alright, alright, keep your panties on," he growled before grabbing the door handle and opening the door with a jerk. He was about to give this intruder a piece of his mind, but he stopped when the startled woman that stood before him began rubbing her eyes like she had seen a ghost.

"Well, if it isn't little old Burp." He chuckled. "Where is Prune?"

Bertha gaped. "Mr. Beetleman! What are you doing here?"

Beetlejuice grinned at her, admiring the uniform. Oh, this was just too good.

"Ah you know, little of this. Little of that." As he spoke, he spied a similarly dressed tall blonde man who was assisting the familiar but tiny woman out of the police cruiser. Prudence had not changed all that much over the years.

"Yo, Prune! Finally got caught? Ya shoulda tried pleading insanity. It works for me." Cackling he slapped his knee at his own joke. "I kill me sometimes."

Prudence gasped when she saw him in the door. Even though she was just as shocked to see him as Bertha was, she offered a smile and a wave.

"So, are we having an after party or something? The big day was yesterday ya know?" He grinned and pushed the door open wide so Bertha could enter.

"That's not very funny, you know." Bertha chastised.

"Yeah, yeah, twisted sense of humor. You know I love it." Beej patted Prudence's hair when she came through the door and then he locked eyes with the blonde stranger.

The man had been staring at him as if he could see through his facade. It gave him the creeps. "So, who do we got here, kids? New playmate?"

"Officer Dichter," He replied cautiously, "and you are?"

"The kids call me Beetleman." Gripping the guy's hand, he shook it while completely ignoring the way the man had flinched from his touch.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Beetleman?" Prudence asked mirroring Bertha's confused expression.

"Well, you know how it is? Lonely girl, grieving all alone." Waggling his eyebrows, his joke had prompted a sound of disgust from the two girls.

"How did you know she was alone?" the other man asked rather brusquely.

Beej glared at him, but Lydia interrupted the exchange when she came down the stairs dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a black band shirt featuring a red rose.

"I didn't want to be alone." A gentle smile spread upon her face as she approached her two friends. Because she happened to be the closest, the first to be hugged was Prudence. Afterward, it was Bertha's turn who also returned the embrace with a tight squeeze causing one of her vertebrae to pop.

"I'm so sorry! Really, really sorry. I…" Bertha babbled into Lydia's hair, finding it difficult to formulate the feelings bubbling up within her.

"Bertha, it's okay. I already told you it was okay that you missed.."

"No! It's not," Releasing Lydia from the squeeze, their eyes met as Bertha gripped Lydia's shoulders "Lydia I have bad-bad-bad news."

Lydia quizzically looked at her before furrowing her brow as she examined the other grim faces within the room. Anxiety over how much they had pieced together in one night flooded her. Based on their current behavior, she could rest assured that they were not there to accuse her of murder.

"Ms. Deetz," stepping forward, the other man gifted her a sympathetic smile.

Keeping her calm, she nodded at him. "Hello Allen"

They would never suspect a thing, she resolved. Even if she had cracked and released that emotional torrent that had been haphazardly rippling under the surface. They would have simply assumed that she was just grieving, right?

Clearing his throat, Allen's face subtly flushed from her directness. Lydia's lips curled up in a half smile at his reaction.

"Ah, yeah. Well, yes. That is."

"The worst news!" Bertha's outburst interrupted her partner's flustered ramblings.

The abrupt exclamation made Lydia jump. Instinctively she started in Beej's direction but froze when she noticed the stern look on his face. She breathed in and out, calming herself and placing one hand on her heart.

"I find that hard to believe … with Daddy gone there can't be."

"Your mother was in an accident." Bertha blurted again. Acting quickly, Allen firmly put his hand upon his partner's shoulder. This simple act had been one that they had previously agreed upon. It was her gentle reminder to not let her emotions get ahead of herself. Dialing back her emotions, she carefully released Lydia's shoulders.

With a furtive glance, Lydia did not miss how Beetlejuice's eyes narrowed while he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. She would not crack. She couldn't, not in front of him.

"I'm sorry Lydia," Prudence's soft voice spoke up. "I'm so very sorry but..she… she didn't make it."

The silence stretched. What did he do to the body for them to think it was an accident?

"Can I… that is can you tell me what happened?" Taking a step, her nerves were finally starting to kick in causing her to falter. She felt exposed as all eyes were now on her. It was as if they could see the blood on her hands.

"Babes," In an instant, Beetlejuice was beside her. His hands bracing her with one under her elbow and the other on the opposite hip. "Shhh. Let me. Just breathe, relax."

The three others that were in the room watched the two as if they had never before witnessed a tender moment between them… oh right, they hadn't.

Clearing his throat, Allen was visibly uncomfortable with this turn of events. Although unsure if he should, he finally stepped forward and interrupted their little interlude.

"It's good that she has a friend Mr. Beetleman, but I'm sure Lydia will need some time to process this on her own."

Bertha jerked her attention in Allen's direction. She swore that she had just sensed something off within her partner. Although neither of them said anything, a meaningful look was shared between her and Prudence.

"Not a chance, Bub. I'm stickin' 'round until she tells me to vamoose." Beej's hands dug a little deeper into Lydia's skin. It wasn't until she had hissed under her breath did he release, although not completely. He was still supporting her by the elbow.

While the two men continued their battle of wills with a staring match, the others within the room fidgeted under the ever-building tension. Not long into the growing silence, Prudence had decided to interfere.

"Calm down, you two. There is no point in making things worse. It's been a bad day all around. Officer Ditcher, If you wouldn't mind me asking a question… ," Waiting until he gave an affirming nod, did she continue, "Mr. Beetleman, were you here all night?" Prudence asked.

"Yeah, what of it?" After smirking at Allen's reaction, Beej began picking at his teeth. It appeared that The cop didn't really seem to like him very much. Not that it bothered him.

Nodding, the small woman pushed her glasses back in place. "You see, we weren't sure if you knew where Mrs. Deetz was, and you know how overprotective…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mrs. D didn't like me around Lyds as much. Get to the point." He growled. He stumbled to catch Lydia when she slipped out of his grip. "Whoa, there Babes. Let's get you somewhere to sit.

As Lydia nodded, the group continued to watch the strange interaction. The girls weren't as confused as much as they were curious. Conversely, Allen didn't trust the man in the striped pants

"Mother had a coffee date planned after the service. When it got late, I … I didn't want to be alone." Locking eyes with the blonde officer she explained more to him. "My dad was my life's pillar. I've been so alone without him."

The truth in her eyes stung him deeply. Allen had felt her honesty and raw emotions as easily as if it were his own. Grief was not foreign to him, and he felt the wound that was inside of him open just a little more from his own most recent loss. Just as he was beginning to feel exposed by the girl, she released him from her sight and then started to penetrate Bertha with her gaze.

"Who would you want beside you when the world was falling down?" This time, Bertha had felt the sting as her eyes began to water.

"Oh, Lydia." Crying out, she ran and flung her arms around the frail girl on the couch. As Bertha cried, Lydia felt a tear slip when she thought of her dad. Of course, from the outside, others would only assume that her tear was only for the fact that now, Lydia Deetz was the last of her family.

Normally, Beej would have cheered at their luck but today he wouldn't; not now that he had to really settle some facts with his Babes.

—

"Like, Oh my god. Did you like…. see this shit?" A well-manicured hand waved the local paper in the face of the two girls who looked like they would rather be somewhere other than with their extremely angry friend.

By the Middle of the day, the morning newspaper had already affixed the story of Delia Deetz's untimely death to her husband's obituary in a rushed last minute print. Of course, everyone had already known about it in only a few hours after the eccentric woman had been found. Gossip was a royal pain in Peaceful Pines.

Especially when that gossip was about the local freak.

The girl growled and flung the paper at the taller of her entourage. Claire Brewster would not have described the two as friends but had more so considered them to be groupies. These two had tagged along with her the longest, and they would almost be considered vintage if she had cared enough to give them a label.

"It's like, harshly unfair!" Claire's carefully French-tipped fingernails combed through her blonde curls and then flung them back. It was a style that she had determined was going to be the next big trend. Then once that took hold, she would find something new for her to stay ahead of the peasants.

Peaceful Pines didn't have much in the way of the entertainment department, but it did have the Mondo mall and that was where the girls had been when they came across the newsstand. The name Deetz caught Claire's eye while she was perusing through the latest magazines.

"It's not like she asked for it." The girl who was now holding the paper spoke up but paused when Claire threw a nasty glare in her direction. "I-I mean, her parents died."

"So?" Rolling her eyes, she picked up the two magazines that she had wanted before handing the old clerk her credit card. As he stared at her offered form of payment, a noticeable frown decorated the clerks face.

"Ms. Brewster, I distinctly remember telling you that the stand is cash only." Taciturnly crossing his arms, he emphasized his point that he wouldn't be accepting her piece of plastic.

Claire scoffed. "Whatever. I don't carry anything as pedestrian as cash. Monica, like, pay the man."

With a deep inhale, Monica returned the newspaper to its original place before she fetched the last few bills that she had been carrying in her purse. She knew she wouldn't get them back, but still, she did as she was told.

"Finally!" Claire huffed when the man accepted the money and gave the girl a dime in change. "Let's go. Mummsie and Daddsie are going out of town for the weekend, and I still need to find a killer dress for the Soirée I will be hosting. Can you, like, imagine? They asked me to host the biggest party in town!"

The two girls shared a look before trailing after Claire. Neither was willing to tell Claire that she was Mayor Shadix's last resort now that Mrs. Deetz was dead.

Lydia didn't find any relief after her morning visitors left the house. As soon as the door closed, she and Beej watched the police cruiser travel down the hill to the main road.

Doomie, their own car, opened his eyes and whined. Lydia gave him a gentle smile. No sooner had the police cruiser disappeared from behind the trees did Jane Butterfield arrive.

Deflecting her had proven easy enough by simply closing the door and curtains on her. Eventually, Jane gave up and left.

A few moments later, the family that had been still in town from the funeral came to visit Lydia. They were all so eager to get to know her even though Lydia had barely known any of them.

The house, full and noisy, was becoming too much for her. Lydia stood off to the side while the "family" gossiped about Delia potentially committing suicide or if the slick, icy roads had indeed taken her too soon.

She watched them. Studied them. Their eagerness to know, their lack of genuine tears, and how their expressions of false pity would prompt the emotion in their eyes to check out. Leaning against the hallway closet, Lydia had been rooted to that spot in complete fascination.

That was until a flutter of paper under her nose had stolen her away from the observations.

"What's this?" She asked while taking the paper from Beej who stood just around the corner of the hallway.

"Probably the reason you've been gaining popularity at light speed" He chuckled. "Family. Gotta love their greedy souls."

Reading the paper, she glared at quick addition that was slapped onto to her father's obituary.

"I worked on fathers obituary for days, and they put her in it? They didn't even ask me!"

"Shhhh shhh," Beetlejuice instantly noticed how three of the faces had cocked in their direction. "Babes, keep the voice down."

Too late. "Well if it isn't, 'Cousin BJ'" her aunt walked over with her head held high. Her dark clothing from the day before had been changed into something a little more ostentatious. She wore a dark red dress with a deep neckline that Lydia could almost admire it if it had been on anyone else.

"Hey there, Aunt Zephora. Long time no sneeze." Offering his hand, she hesitantly took it only to be met with a gooey mess that coated his palm. Instantly she pulled away with a screech.

"You're horrible…. ugh." Composed once again, she lifted her nose higher and looked down upon him. "You, sir, are no family member. I did my research before returning to this awful little countryside, and neither side has ever had a B.J. or any other name with those initials. Who, pray tell, are you and what is your reason for bothering my beloved niece?"

Beloved? That's a new one.

Before he could speak, Lydia calmly placed her hand upon Beetlejuice's arm stilling his rebuttal.

"B.J. happens to be my best friend."

"A poor taste in one. You must be related to that Beetleman, the one that Delia always complained about."

"Nnnnnnope," Standing tall and proud while allowing a slip of his ghostly image through within his devious grin. Zephora's eyes grew wide with fear. "I am the Beetleman she always complained about."

Stepping back, Zephora's eyes darted between Lydia and the man with the subtly glowing eyes.

"She was right about you," she breathed. "You do dabble in dark forces."

Lydia flinched from her aunt's venomous words, but Beej protectively stepped forward.

"I think it's time for you to go now. Wouldn't want to overstay your welcome now, would you?" His tone leveled to a menacing depth causing Zephora to tremble and prompting her to turn and grab her husband's arm. Hastily, she left the house while tugging along her poor man without giving him any explanation.

The guests that were still inside of the house looked between Lydia, Beetlejuice, and the closed door that her aunt and uncle had just left through. They all seemed to get the hint when they saw Lydia hugging herself against the wall and Beej glaring at them.

After the steady stream exited the house, Lydia crumbled to the ground before either she or Beej could stop her descent.

His slow approaching steps clicked against the wood floorboards until he was over her.

It was then that she lifted her head to look up at him.

"Alone at last." He said as he reached down for her to take his hand. "Now let's get to business."

Looking up at him curiously, she accepted his offer and stood up with her back firmly against the wall. Placing his hands on either side of her head he leaned in until their noses touched.

"First blood in 18 years. Tell me, Lydia. What do you remember?"


	5. Innocence

"Her innocence was the first part of her soul to die." - Edgar Allan Poe

Her doll looked sad?

She couldn't understand how this could possibly be. Lydia had made her a new dress and even gave her a better hair color. Now she looked a bajillion times better, but for some reason, Mommy said the doll looked sad.

When she had first got the chubby-cheeked Cabbage Patch doll, Lydia winced at the curly blonde hair and rosy cheeks. Her pink dresses were far too common placed, and lucky for Annabel Lee, Daddy had recognized that and bought her a couple new doll dresses in blues and whites.

Mommy didn't agree with Lydia knowing about Edgar Allan Poe and his spooky tales, so she and Daddy both decided not to tell Mommy where her doll's name had come from. Especially since Daddy was the one who helped dye Annabel's hair black to match Lydia's raven tresses.

"Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself?" From down the hall were raised voices, Lydia acknowledged. Mommy was mad again.

"Evelyn, please!" Charles called out, "You can't do this to her. She's my child too!"

Picking up Annabel and hugging the doll tightly, Lydia carefully stood and crept down the halls of their two-story condo. Kneeling down, she leaned against the baluster.

"I don't care what you have to say in this matter. She needs help, and you are blind. Face the facts, Charles. She is not normal. She never was!"

"She's talking about me," Lydia whispered to Annabel, not expecting an answer to come from the cherubic effigy.

"You don't know what you are talking about. Lydia's just curious. She is an artist. You have never taken the time to understand her -"

A loud crack of flesh against flesh resounded off the walls. "Don't talk to me about artists."

"Eve -"

"Tomorrow. Charles. Tomorrow will be your last day with her. Enjoy it while you can." Clicking heels against wooden floors began to muffle as soon as they came in contact with the carpet.

Charles sighed and rubbed his face, confused by how quickly his minor error in judgment was catching up with him. His only hope would be that this separation wouldn't affect Lydia. Turning his attention to the second floor, he spied the tiny little girl hugging her doll. Her eyes were wide and brimmed with tears.

Before climbing up the stairs, he released another deep breath and then finally knelt in front of his little girl. Smiling sweetly despite her tears, Lydia offered Annabel.

"Aww, Pumpkin. Everything is going to be alright. I promise." Taking the doll in one hand, he wrapped his other around the frail child and pulled her into his embrace.

"Mommy's mad," Lydia stated.

"Not at you, Kiddo. Trust me. This is all on Daddy this time." He squeezed her gently when Lydia sniffled against his collar.

Evelyn Deetz was furious as she began to stuff items into her suitcase. How dare he! How dare Delia… her best friend! It was beyond cliche. She didn't care if "nothing happened" as he claimed. The intention was there, and she could feel it.

At this point, she was just over how willfully blind he was to that woman's charms. Delia was after him, and he refused to see it. What's more, he even refused to see what sort of effect that woman was having on Lydia.

She saw. Oh yes, Evelyn saw, and she knew without a doubt that her little girl was learning the subtleties of how to charm the men around her. All because Delia had to throw her flirty ass in Charles direction.

At least, Evelyn had more discretion when it came to her own faults. She never let on that she had the skill to know and feel the way the universe shifted around the aurae of those she loved, and even those she did not. She had never let on that she had been unsatisfied with her marriage for years and, regardless of a few missteps, had the decency to keep her secrets from ever coming to light.

Fury was but a single emotion that ran through her veins at this moment. Disappointment in Charles, disgust for her former best friend, fear for the child she bore and brought into this hell… The list would continue if she had more of a mind to care.

Destroying her bedroom should have calmed the rage inside her or at least tamper down the high energy that radiated off of her. Spite filled her, whereas before it would have been nothing more than an annoyance. She wanted to take everything that she had of value before she left the luxury apartment that her snob of a friend refused to call anything other than a high-end condo.

She had gone to great lengths to pick through each drawer. Every shiny bauble that Charles had given her and every heirloom left to her at the passing of family over the years, all of it crammed into one bag or another.

This was her third suitcase.

Forcing the case to close, Evelyn grunted all the while as she pushed her tiny weight into her work. She was rail thin, delicate even, and nowhere near as curvaceous as Delia. It irked her to no end that she had spent that much time in a friendship that neither had found comforting.

Always one-upping each other at every turn.

Oh, but she thought that she had won. Evelyn felt that she had the upper hand with her handsome, successful husband, an adorable child with a perfect porcelain doll face, and money. They had plenty of money, and that alone was enough to turn Cordelia Hart's head in the Deetz's direction.

But of course, she had never expected her husband's affection to fade.

Evelyn noticed how proud Charles was of her baby. The day that Delia picked Lydia up, cradling the infant while commenting on the lovely contrast of the girl's features, was also the day Delia turned up her charm.

Both women knew that Lydia had become the center of Charles's world the moment life's air had touched her skin and entered her body. The underweight miracle, who came before they were ready, had somehow wiggled her way into her husband's heart. Pushing out the last remnant of their romance out of their marriage.

He never came home to her anymore. Nope, he only came back for Lydia.

Blind Charles Deetz never saw the tiny bugs with torn wings. He never saw the way Lydia picked up a stray cats body on the way home from school and prepared it for a funeral. He also never saw the way the girl's eyes would widen during the tales of horror that her husband read to her, nor the enthusiastic way she leaned into the TV while watching her favorite video, Night of the Living Dead.

There was only one recourse. Only one path left.

She needed to get Lydia away from Charles and into therapy. She needed to get herself away from Charles and Delia's goo-goo eyed puppy love. She needed to prepare for her meeting with the lawyers.

At least then she would be able to get alimony out of this.

"Mommy?" Sweet young Lydia cooed from the doorway of the bedroom. Her wide innocent eyes looking around the room as she took in the destruction. "What are you doing?"

Turning towards her child, Evelyn put on a smile to hide her irritation and anger. Lydia stepped back for a moment to analyze her mother's face. She took in the way her long black hair came down her shoulders in waves and how her eyes, blazed on with the rage that she had tried so hard to bury deeply over the years.

"Lydia, go get your Care Bear suitcase. Mommy needs to pack." She watched as the little girl squeezed her doll closer to her chest.

"Are you leaving Daddy?" she asked with sadness in her voice.

"We are going on a trip, baby girl. Now, go get your bag. I don't have time for this."

Lydia nodded once and then again before Evelyn watched her little girl come closer while her posture changed as she tilted her head up.

"He's gonna be so sad."

No one had ever told Evelyn how difficult it would be to have to curb her tongue around a child. She was never meant to be a mother. All that she ever wanted was to be a model; to be the one girl who could knock those beachbody bimbos off their pedestal. She could have even kicked Cindy Crawford down a notch.

Instead, she got involved with a man who needed her to stay at home with a child that made her uncomfortable. Her senses were on high alert whenever Lydia's eyes darkened with a desire every time someone sustained something as simple as a papercut. Unconsciously, Evelyn knew there was a bottomless well of horror under that innocent surface.

"Honey, you need to listen to me. Go get your bag. Now." Stepping forward, she reached out for the hideously altered doll.

Poor little Paula Posey no longer wore her adorable pink frilly dress, and her yarn pigtails were dyed as black as the genetic trait that prevented her from getting a natural dye job.

Lydia tugged Annabel Lee back from her mothers reach.

"I don't want you to hurt Daddy."

Short tempers often win out, and Evelyn reached her breaking point. Whether it was from anger at her husband or fear of the calm that radiated off the child.

"Lydia, go get your bag. Do as I tell you, or so help me."

"Mommy? Can I have a hug first?"" Lydia's voice was soft and sad, but her eyes, however, betrayed no emotion. Along with her aura, she was null, a void filled her empathic channel, and that infuriated Evelyn. She was desperately upset that she couldn't fix her baby girl. Regardless of her feelings on motherhood, the urge to protect her child and set right the wrongs that she and her husband committed while rearing such an unusual creature, always won out.

"For Christ sake," Evelyn dropped her suitcase off the bed and onto the floor. Exasperated, she stomped forward and knelt down to Lydia's level. "You are going to be the death of me one day, child."

"I know." Was all Lydia said when a sharp pain entered the soft tissue right under her sternum.

Eye's wide and gasping, Evelyn tried to pull back, but Lydia grabbed the sleeves of her mother's blouse tighter and shoved the blade in deeper.

"Daddy needs me, Mommy." She said while Evely n's lungs filled with blood until she was choking on the fluid that was pooling inside. With her vision blinking in and out, she tipped over and fell to her side. Lydia stood over her with Annabel hanging from one hand and a large kitchen knife in the other.

Opening her mouth, Evelyn tried to say something, but the liquid made her gag.

"You can't hurt Daddy again." She smiled gently while her mother quickly bled to death all over the bedroom floor. "Don't worry. I can help take care of him."

With a final gurgle and a drip, Evelyn faded into the darkness.

Lydia glanced down at the body of her mother.

"Mommy doesn't look happy, Annabel." Looking at her Cabbage Patch doll, Lydia smiled at the blood stains on her new dress, and it caused her to giggle. "You look like Lizzie from the Ax story."

From downstairs, a door opened and slammed shut until heavy footsteps rushed up the stairs. There were no words, just movement. Before the gasp sounded at the entrance to the bedroom, she already knew who it was.

"Hi, Daddy." Spinning on the spot, Lydia rushed to him with the bloody knife in one hand and her beloved doll in the other. She didn't think much about the blood that had leaked onto the front of her dress.

When she saw his reaction, she stopped just short of hugging him. Backing up in a rush and tripping over his own feet, he banged his head against the baluster that she had leaned against from the night before. The crack from the impact was rather loud, and Charles groaned in pain before effectively blacking out.

For the very first time in her life, Lydia realized that she was alone.

Utterly Alone…

A low chuckle disturbed the silence in the room. Spinning around, she tried to decipher where the sound had come from… only to come face to face with the most terrifying visage that she had ever seen in her short life.

"What do we got here tonight, Kid?" He laughed and smirked at her from behind the glass of a vanity. The vanity. It was the one one that she admired so much that she had hoped to be able to refurbish it to suit her own tastes one day.

However, at that moment, the mirror... Rather, the inside of that mirror… was now occupied by a man in a striped jacket and wearing a grin like the Devil.

"Who.. who are you?" She let the knife clatter to the floor. "How did you get in there?"

Another chuckle let her know that he found her amusing.

"I'm the Ghost with the Most," He puffed out the smoke from the cigarette that he had held in his lips just moments ago. "You know, you look like somebody I can relate to. Maybe you could help me get out of here, you know because I got to tell you, this dead thing... it's just too creepy."

At 6 years old, Lydia Deetz smiled brightly right back at him.

Staring into the glowing eyes, she knew… she knew the truth that had almost made no sense.

"What do you… remember?" His voice grew husky, gravely, and yet there remained a gentle prodding.

"She was going to hurt my Father." Tilting up her chin, she could nearly feel his breath. Impossible as it may seem, she knew that the gentle invisible caress against her skin was nothing more than his ghostly aura.

"And?"

Lydia closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. "They said it was a break in gone wrong. Daddy had passed out when he got home and found her and then found me."

"Break in, huh?" Beetlejuice pushed away from the wall and summoned his handbook.

Confusion, exhaustion, frustration, all of it was beginning to build inside of her body like a rumbling bubble of molten rock that was near ready to burst from the earth. She knew as he did that she had an explosive temper when she was pushed to her limit.

Beej's cryptic behavior was toeing the line as far as she was concerned.

"Just tell me what the hell is going on?" She demanded.

The ghost chuckled. "Still got that fire, Babes. Keep it up."

A growl of frustration erupted from her throat, and he laughed even louder as she stomped off to the kitchen.

"Lyds! Get back in here." He called with his smug expression still firmly in place.

From the kitchen, he began to hear the sounds of ceramic dishes hitting the trash bins.

"Not until you tell me why I can remember seeing you the day my mom was killed." She called out to him.

Nodding to himself, he lifted off the ground to freely float along without concern. Once he was in the kitchen, he slammed the handbook onto the counter.

"You and I go way back, Lyds." Resting his elbows on the counter, he picked at an oozy green casserole that one of the 'mourners' had brought over.

"Apparently." She mumbled when she reached for that dish and tossed it into the trash with the other.

"Aww come on, Babes." He nearly whined but stopped mid-antic when he saw her stern face. She stood tall with her eyes fixed on her target. There it was: Her confidence. That strength that had been depleting since Old Chucky's death.

"I want answers," She demanded. Her hands would ache later when she realized just how hard she had slammed them down onto the countertop.

Beej eyed her before finding humor in this situation. His expression could rival a Cheshire cat.

"Ya ever wonder why Mrs. D and your old man never questioned my hanging around for all those years? Or maybe why they never really seemed in touch with reality?" He waited until she nodded before he continued.

"That's the Neitherworld, Babes."

"But I'm not dead." The crease in her brow changed shape as she raised her eyebrow questioningly. "How come I remember all that blood? These memories are in bits and pieces, I can't…"

"Give it some time, Lyds. Fresh blood and all. It's what breaks the spell, but it takes time." He pointed at a page in his book and shoved it over to her.

"'Corporeal Spectral Unions and Covenants' What's that?" She asked as she pulled the book closer to her, her eyes widening with each word.

"That's right, Lyds." He chuckled. "You and I have a deal. Long term in fact. Spell's broken…" "It's showtime."


	6. All that is Profound

"Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence whether much that is glorious whether all that is profound does not spring from disease of thought from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect." - Edgar Allan Poe

Ch 6:

Corporeal Spectral Unions and Covenants:

Upon acceptance of the terms detailed in the agreement between the deceased entity and the living being, the pact is complete, regardless of the ceremonial habits of the mortal world.

The spoken word holds as much validity as a document provided by the Records and Registrations offices of The Great Beyond. As such, both parties must fulfill their promise to the fullest extent. Failure to perform said obligations is considered a breach of the contract, for which the Courts of Fate may intervene and persecute.

Unions and Covenants between the living and dead without set completion requirements will be deemed fulfilled and terminated upon the transition of the mortal's life to afterlife.

Unions under the guise of marriage are legal and binding in both realms and will not be terminated upon transition. Exceptional circumstances as in the case of alternate judgments will alter the placement of the former living soul to that of the deceased alotted haunting parameter. However, should the living soul be granted lesser damnation or grant to the upper echelons, the deceased partner is allowed entrance to their spouse's division.

—

Lydia bit carefully into an apple as she flipped the page of the leather bound book that had been left in her custody. A tome of information was right at her fingertips, detailing all the requirements and procedures of the afterlife. After all of these years of traveling between the world of the living and the dead, she found it baffling that she had never really known the Neitherworld.

The veil slowly lifted from her eyes in the days following her father's death and had continued to do so, albeit faster, when she had killed Delia. The truth was now left bare. Exposed.

Sucking the juices of her fruit, she chewed with deliberate pacing before biting into it again.

One drop, however, slid tantalizingly down her jawline and neck till it curved along her body and into the low cut sweater she wore. Smirking in amusement at the muttering from across the room, she looked up to see that Beetlejuice had been watching her. Eyes narrow and focused on the trail left behind, he shook his head.

"And people think I'm a sloppy eater." Feigning a look of annoyance, he crossed his arms over his chest with one eyebrow raised in silent admonishment.

Lydia giggled like a kid without worries. "You? The guy who willingly eats bugs and sludge? Complaining? What are you afraid that I'm gonna take your throne, Oh King of all Grossness?"

"Facts, Babes. Just pointing out one of your many perfections. You know I'm a sucker for a bad habit." Cackling, Beej leered in her direction.

Pressing her lips together in consideration, she grinned right back at him. If he wanted a cat and mouse game, then she would gladly play along.

Biting into her apple again, Lydia made sure to maintain eye contact throughout the slow crunch and sucking of the juice. Another drip and a soft moan were all it took for Beej to turn his gaze elsewhere.

Wicked feelings coursed through her when she saw how his cheeks flushed but rather than commenting or teasing him further, she celebrated her victory silently.

"How did you know that I would call you back?" She asked, lifting up the handbook as she did so. "Wouldn't the fact that I didn't remember put your freedom at risk?"

Beej returned his gaze to her and smiled with such affection that Lydia had to hold her breath. The tenderness in his expression was deep enough to cause her heart to ache. He seemed almost apologetic.

"I was always free, Lyds" He left his position and crossed the room to the shelf that held the family albums. "You were so tiny and so innocent after the cleansing. Just didn't seem right to take away your second chance so soon."

Casually placing the book down on the arm of her chair, Lydia crosses the room to join him as he flipped through the pages of one of the albums. Finally standing beside him, she rested her head upon his shoulder.

He didn't bother to smother his grin while his finger slid down to a photo of Lydia's seventh birthday. A picture that had been taken at her paternal grandparents home in their living room.

Charles looked frazzled but affectionate as he held the child who wore a little black dress with a red sash. Her doll, Annabel, was wearing a lacy ruffled dress that was dyed a deep purple. Along with the black hair dye that contrasted against the plastic skin, she resembled Lydia in a grotesque cherubic way that was almost ironic. The doll rested on the edge of the sofa that was nearest to the side-table, but upon that was a case. It was then that she caught a ghostly pair of eyes in its reflection.

Immediately Lydia reached for the book.

"How have I never noticed this before?" As if she had never before seen the likes of it, she held the book and flipped through the pages with fresh eyes.

"Part of the spell." He shrugged. "You probably don't remember all of the details of our deal but to put it simply, I gave you and old Chucks a clean slate."

"No wonder they never solved the break-in case." She mumbled while flipping pages before she took the book with her and wandered into the kitchen. "So, what happened? If you were able to move between worlds, why did you need me to call your name?"

Loud cackling filled the room while Beetlejuice began to float into the air. "Oh, this is just too good. You really forgot the best part."

"Beetlejuice" she warned when his face broke into a wicked grin.

Changing his head into a copy of her own, he spoke with her voice. "I have a great idea! How 'bout if I say a magic word to travel back and forth."

Shocked, Lydia protested "No! No way!"

"Y-yup" He drew the word out on his own voice. "Deal as it was, I was free to come and go until the time came when you discovered the "magic poem" that you wrote."

"So, it's my fault." After closing the book and setting it on the counter, Lydia rested her elbows down upon the marble surface until finally burying her face in her hands.

"What can I say? You were a kid and let's face it, the Neitherworld was much more fun once you came around." Beetlejuice's smile widened, showing off all his grotesque glory.

Looking up, she glared at him.

"Nothin' but a bunch of stiffs in that dump, if you hadn't brought some mortal blood up into that joint, I don't think I coulda waited another 5 years."

Narrowing her glare further, Lydia stood up with her hands firm on the stone slab of the island counter that Delia had installed a few years earlier.

"Blood magic."

"Figured it out did ya?" He chuckled, but it didn't have the resonance that she was used to. This was dark and menacing. The dichotomy between the ghost she knew and the one standing before her struck hard.

"Beej?" She asked while tentatively walking around the counter closer to him. He settled down on his feet, he stood before her. Gently she reached up to touch his cheek and brushed some of his hair away from his face.

"Don't need to worry about my name anymore, Lydia," he took her hand from his cheek and held it in front of them. As if his touch was a black light, the blood from her kills began to glow upon her skin, exposing the truth. "How much further do you want to go?"

—

If you had asked anyone in Peaceful Pines, they would have simply said that Delia Deetz died in an accident. It had been nothing more than an unfortunate slip upon the black ice and fresh snow. Yet, for the girl who lived in the house upon the hill, it had compounded upon an already tragic year.

Prudence, the city's official medical examiner, knew that such cases were typically open and closed. There was no need for a proper autopsy, and yet she felt it was part of her duty to her best friend since middle school to give Mrs. Deetz an adequate exam.

Medical school may not have gone the way Prudence wanted, but she was content to serve her city as a replacement for Old Dr. Arty "The Suicide Detector" Reagan. Since his passing, Prudence gladly took over the job once her internship reached its conclusion.

Pulling open the freezer door, Prudence winced and shook her head. She had to remind herself that the woman was no longer her friend's mother. The body before her was nothing but a shell.

"My goodness." She gaped at the slashes and wounds that were now much more visible without the confines of clothing. "Poor Mrs. Deetz. You didn't deserve this."

With a heavy sigh, she began her examination.

"This is Medical Examiner Prudence Miller on the case of Mrs. Cordelia Deetz. The subject's body was found ejected from a vehicle and had suffered from severe blood loss. No autopsies are required in the cases of fatal automobile incidence where there has been no suspicious or intoxicating evidence that are present. However, upon this practitioners sense of duty to the deceased relative, I now begin a general examination to determine if an autopsy is indeed required."

Prudence began her visual exam by detailing the various marks and contusions on the corpse. A slashed shoulder, breast, and neck, with heavily bruised limbs and finally a fractured skull. Furthermore, broken arms, wrist, leg, and a then a deep puncture wound in her abdomen.

"The subject's body shows external signs of minor frost erythema, and by my estimates, the body was exposed to the cold for nearly 6-8 hours. Time of death is difficult to determine without a proper and complete examination. As for the major source of exsanguination, the majority of the lacerations appear to be caused from the shattered glass except for the puncture wound, which I have deduced to have been caused by the impact to a nearby tree branch. The shoulder laceration is nearly 5 millimeters deep and jagged starting above the glenoid, over the scapula until meeting the neck…. wait…."

Prudence paused and picked up the toothed forceps to lift the flap of skin.

"This… isn't a cut from glass…" Lifting the skin just a bit more, she noticed something that simply didn't look quite right.

"I'm reaching for a magnifying glass to see the edges a little better, and there appears to be something in the wound…. what on earth?"

Prudence gasped, dropping the tools, while stepping back from the body on the slab, she had to refrain herself from covering her mouth in horror.

—-

Things couldn't have better as far as Beetlejuice was concerned.

Lydia was well on her way to her eternity with him. One kill gets you a rebirth (or civil duty), two kills were enough to gain entry into the Neitherworld, and after that, well, the rules were relatively unclear, but he did his best to do as much research as possible over the last twelve years so that he didn't fuck this one up. Lydia was so much more than a deal.

Blood magic is tricky. Not even the typical suicides really understood most of the papers that they pushed between offices. In fact, the caseworkers were merely only half aware. Killing oneself, counted as far as the afterlife was concerned, to be counted as a murder. One body, one way ticket to civil servitude.

"Tricky, tricky" he muttered as he searched his bookshelf for the volumes of information that he had stashed well and out of the girls reach. "Good thing Neither-juice works on breathers."

Obliviousness was the key to this land, and he had used it to his advantage at any given opportunity. Hell, it had helped keep the kid in the dark for over a decade, and it made damn sure that her parents had never questioned the fact that an old ghost was sneaking around alongside their daughter.

Finally, he found the one book in particular that he needed to get back into the world of the living. The Neither Paths: Guidelines for Unhappily Never After Vol:1

"There we go. Time to turn up the Juice."

With a cackle, Beetlejuice, the Ghost with the Most - memory that is- left the Roadhouse. Free to move between worlds as he pleased was no longer restricted by a child's fancy. It was high time for a new deal.


	7. Love of years

So when in tears, the love of years, is wasted like the snow… (Edgar Allan Poe)

Maybe it was the fact that it was Christmas Eve, or perhaps it was the fact that Lydia knew her step-mother was supposed to host the New Years party in the town hall. Whichever the factor was that drove her to leave the safety and warmth of her house and into the bustling mall didn't matter anymore because she soon realized that it was a mistake.

The many faces passing by blurred into one pitiful sea of sorrow and sympathy. One after another, someone would eventually take her hand and offer her their condolences. For a while, it seemed that she would be flooded by the waves of emotion, both real and fabricated. When the eyes of several of Delia's friends landed in her direction, panic started to rise within her. Whispers followed her while taunting grins and hushed conversations arose the moment that she looked their way.

There was a distinct sick feeling in her stomach that Delia had already spread the rumors about Beej outside of the family. That sickness soon faded into anger on behalf of her best friend, which created an opening for her confidence to return tenfold.

Turning a corner to a series of stores, there was one shop, in particular, that was explicitly for gifts, and that was precisely where she was headed. In the past, it was a place that she had attributed to contributions for her father. It was filled with items that he adored. From the simple desk ornaments that clicked when dynamic force was applied, leather monogrammed wallets, pens with inscriptions, to all sorts of mundane trinkets that had made him so happy.

Upon entering the shop, she was met with sad but friendly eyes. Inside was a woman over sixty who always worked steady but regular hours at this shop. It was the kind of shop where so few folks visited, and those who did were trustworthy enough to never steal from under her watch.

"Lydia, it's good to see you." Smiling, she stood up on creaky knees.

"There's no need to get up." Lydia protested. "I'm alright. Really"

The woman nodded sagely and resumed her seat. "I can only assume that you are not here for your blessed parents. May they Rest In Peace."

With a shake of her head, she came up to the counter. "I couldn't very well not visit you this close to the holidays."

"Ah, but you are grieving, darling." The lady winced when she shifted in her seat. "I didn't expect to see you for some time."

Placing her hands on the counter, Lydia peered inside the glass case. Encased within, were so many new trinkets that her father would have loved.

"Daddy always did love these gifts even if Mother said that I was too practical. I just always seemed to know what he needed. He was easy to understand." Her voice was gentle while happy memories drifted into her mind. Such precious memories of times when her dad was opening packages, the look affection on his face, and even the humor behind his eyes when she had them engraved with quotes with their favorite Poe stories.

"She was a frivolous sort, bless her."

"Yeah, sure," Lydia didn't dare comment any further.

Scanning the case with her eyes, they rested on the potential of what could have been had her father lasted just a few more years. She would have sacrificed anything for him to survive, but she knew that deep down, it was better for him this way. Living scared and nervous while not knowing the reason behind it must have been horrible.

If it hadn't been for BJ….

Finally, her eyes landed on a shiny silver pocket watch even though it looked nothing like the others that she had seen before. This one was quite particular, it had a skull in the center, large numbers, and the four suites in a card deck.

"Edith," Lydia slowly moved off of the glass and pointed down to the piece. "Can I see that watch?"

Edith raised a skeptical brow, then curled her lips into a knowing smirk. Reaching her hands into the case, she extracted the watch and carefully placed it into Lydia's waiting hands.

Detail by detail, Lydia admired the trinket until she flipped it open and found that it was just perfect. Even the font used on the face was clearly legible and yet somehow perfectly fit the aesthetic of the piece.

"Do you have someone in mind?" The woman asked her with a grin still present.

Lydia's cheeks flushed. "Just a friend."

"Oh, darling, I've seen people buy gifts for friends before and their eyes don't just light up like that. Go on, tell me who it is. Is it that partner of your police friends?"

Shocked, Lydia looked up. "Allen? Oh no. I barely know him." She paused to hand the watch to Edith. "What would make you think…"

"It was only a guess. I'm old, and I hear talk." Again, she grinned wickedly while lowering her voice conspiratorially. "That and I just saw him staring at you from the window for maybe five minutes or so."

Turning quickly, Lydia was met with nothing but an empty display window. Just as quickly, she turned back, "How long ago?"

Edith chuckled. "Not long. He came to his senses about a few moments before and took off."

With a shake of her head and a chuckle of her own, Lydia pulled out her wallet from her over the shoulder bag.

"If it's possible, I would like to engrave the back." With confidence, she pulled out her credit card and accepted the pen and paper that Edith was holding out to her.

After scribbling a message onto the paper, she handed it back to the old woman. As she took in the implications, the expression that crossed the aged face grew in wonder.

Perhaps, not all of the talk in the town was positive, after all.

—

"Stalking her isn't going to help you know?" The smile on Bertha's face was bigger than when she and Prudence had first caught wind of the potential attraction of Allen and Lydia.

Her partner in question, not in uniform, began to wonder why he was spending his much needed time off in the mall on Christmas Eve.

It was then that he remembered the way Bertha had insisted while practically begging for him to just go with; She had reasoned that spending the holidays alone wasn't going to help him get through this season and sure, she may have had a point. Still, she was kind enough as far as co-workers went, but would he go so far as to call their acquaintance a friendship?

In the end, Allen did like Bertha well enough to concede, and she convinced him to traverse out into this bustling and chaotic environment. Although he questioned why in the world he continued to stay when her friend Prudence suddenly joined in the holiday excursion.

He needed to make up some excuse to get away from the horrible and tumultuous emotions that surrounded him. He needed to find solace. Just as he opened his mouth to call it a day, he spotted Lydia Deetz roaming the building. It was like he couldn't help himself from following her to see where she was going.

The shop that she had stepped into had been practically empty, and it gave him pause about entering to join her. Instead, he watched the girl from the shop window while the two women at his side chattered on like school girls. At one point, he couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes when they began to make plans to go out for drinks and look for dates.

It was only when Bertha nudged him did he notice the old lady within staring at him while Lydia leaned against the glass.

Flashing a quick frown at his partner, he returned his gaze and spied Lydia pointing to an object. There was something that the old woman had said that provoked a blush from the raven-haired beauty. The blush stirred a strange feeling within him, and he found himself caught entirely off guard. If he could describe the feeling… it would have been jealousy.

No, how could this have happened? Startled to the core, he didn't want to believe that he could feel something so negative, let alone because of a girl that he hardly knew. He analyzed the feeling as he thought on and how she intended to gift something to someone else. Yet, that by itself was enough for that emotion to burn. The more that he thought about it, the more that he wanted to be the recipient and that made him uneasy. It left him feeling shaken.

Once again, Bertha nudged him and severed his train of thought.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he moved away from the window.

"Aww don't be like that, Allen." Bertha tailed after him. "Come on, we know her better than anyone else. You can talk to us."

Looking between both women who had identical Cheshire Cat grins, Allen shook his head and continued walking.

"Right now, It's probably better that we discuss what information we share or withhold in regards to the investigation." His voice became distinct and overly professional in the context of a mall crawl, but it helped him to regain control over that unsettling feeling that he had experienced moments ago.

"I don't think that would be the best idea." Prudence added, "Technically speaking, I shouldn't have told you what I found. It needs to be debriefed through the official report."

Bertha looked aghast.

"But this is Lydia! We have to tell her!" She protested. "Her mother was killed. That's the kind of stuff you need to prepare someone for and if we don't tell her before it hits papers then-"

"Then we won't have to worry about her letting the wrong person know the heat is on," Allen pressed his lips together while a shadow of darkness crossed his features.

Both women let his words sink in, confused by their meaning and the expression that tarnished his usual stoic facade. Bertha had only ever seen that look when they were on cases where an innocent, usually a child, was involved.

"What exactly are you getting at?" Bertha asked.

Allen looked like he was about to say something but shook his head. "Never mind. There are other factors to consider before we start suspecting anyone. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Well, you might want to stop talking now. I think Lydia saw us." Prudence pointed back in the direction of the shop. Lydia had indeed spotted them and was now making her way through the crowd.

—-

There was some time before the inscription of the watch could be complete, and so, with her promise to return with a warm cup of coffee, Lydia stepped out of the store. Picking up her pace to catch up to her friends, she couldn't help but notice how interesting her group of friends were. As they moved through the throngs of last-minute shoppers, it was clear there was no way for them to blend in.

Even in a small town such as Peaceful Pines, she was surprised to see Officer Ditcher with her closest living world companions. She couldn't help but notice how he had looked incredibly uncomfortable, agitated even when Bertha playfully nudged him.

Knowing exactly what her friend was up to, Lydia quirked a half grin at the ruse. Unfortunately, Bertha's efforts were in vain. She just wasn't interested in the cop regardless of his charm, and even she had to admit that he was charming when the occasion called for it.

While she didn't know him that well, she had enough interactions to understand that he wasn't just all good looks and silver-tongued. No, there was something there. She could even say that there were subtle hints that he had traits similar to her ghost.

Shaking all thoughts of the man away, she focused on the horrified look upon Bertha's face. Her interest in their conversation piqued, but she wasn't so lucky as to overhear when they saw her approaching.

"Don't tell me all three of you are doing last minute shopping," Lydia smiled at them all, as she completely ignored their looks of confusion from her chipper demeanor.

"The better question would be is 'how are you holding up?'" Prudence took the initiative to speak while Bertha, unable to contain herself, gave Lydia a hug.

With a pat on her friends back, Lydia stepped out of the embrace.

"I'm doing better. Beej… I mean Mr. Beetleman has been a big help."

The trio exchanged glances between them, and none of them knew where to go with that statement.

"Gee, Lydia. He's been around an awful lot lately." Bertha ventured.

"Yeah. It's like he vanished for a few years and now he's making up for not being around." Prudence replied, but even to her ears, the words that she spoke had sounded forced.

Lydia only shrugged in response. "Mother didn't like him stressing out, Father. He was nice enough to give daddy space."

"Awfully convenient that he would re-appear after their deaths," the comment made Lydia narrow her gaze at Allen.

"Oh? Is it convenient that he was able to come to my rescue when I needed him the most?" She questioned. "I never said that we were out of touch. I had only asked him to stay out of my father's hair…. literally."

She muttered that last word so low that no one could really make it out.

"Besides, what does it matter now? It's not like I have much family left."

Bertha and Prudence felt a deep shame flood within while Allen winced at the sudden shift of tension.

Lydia sighed and held her hands out, "Look, I know that not much ever happens in Peaceful Pines and I don't blame you for being weirded out about it but, really, I'm fine."

Bertha offered Lydia a smile, "We are not weirded out. We're just concerned. You lost two parents in one month… "

"This hasn't been the best year for any of us," Lydia stated to which they all had to agree. The loss and disappointment that the year had dumped on the four individuals had connected them in a way that no other group of friends in Peaceful Pines could ever deign to cope with.

Bertha was never one for sad situations; this Lydia knew all too well, and so she wasn't surprised when the woman shook off her demons and changed the subject.

"Are you going to be able to make it to the New Years party this year?"

Returning the smile that Bertha had plastered on, Lydia shrugged. "I guess that I should. Mother didn't exactly finish her plans, and she wouldn't let anyone else help her. She insisted that everything needed to be a surprise."

To the discomfort of the others, a giggle slipped from her.

"Uh, Lydia," Bertha began, "There's been a change of plans."

"What do you mean?"

"You see, they have already replaced your mom," Bertha took a deep breath and shared an apprehensive look with Prudence.

Lydia was genuinely surprised by this news.

"Oh. Well, I guess that takes a load off my mind."

Bertha, never being one to handle an awkward moment, chuckled. "Yeah, and Claire bit off more than she could chew. You have no idea how many crazy ideas that she has been throwing around. She even asked our department to close off an entire city block so no one else can interfere with her 'creativity.' Psssh, like she has any creativity."

Lydia's smile dropped instantly at the mention of Claire.

"Wait…" she waved her hands around and nervously laughed. "I'm sorry, did you just say Claire? As like in Brewster?"

"Well, yeah. I mean no one else in this town has had the guts to name their kid Claire." Bertha joked but dropped the humor when she noticed the uncomfortable posture of Prudence and the anger in Lydia's face.

Allen sighed, knowing that his partner had just crossed a line, and so, he broke up the stale silence before it could extend any further.

"Hey guys," he started, "I'm gonna head home."

Eyes narrowed at him, she relaxed her intensity, before she gave the officer a nod and a smile.

"You guys have a good Kerstmis. Gelukkige Kerst. Bertha, Prudence, tell your parents that I wish them a very good holiday."

"Don't you want any company tonight, Lydia?" Prudence asked, her voice meek and gentle as if she was afraid to send her friend running like a startled deer. "You could join us if you want."

Lydia waved them off. "I have to wait around here for a bit longer, and then I'm gonna head home. You guys, please be safe."

She hugged them, then turned to give Allen one as well. He flushed and muttered his goodbyes before curtly rushing off with his hand jammed into his pockets.

Lydia's friends didn't bother stifling their satisfied grins to which they turned to her with hopeful expressions. When she saw this, she rolled her eyes.

"Not gonna happen," she said before briskly walking off in the direction of the mall's food court.

—-

It was Christmas Eve, and Lydia was alone.

There were no gifts. Not even a tree. Any indication of the season was only wrought upon the atmosphere by the glow of the house lights refracting off of the snow. The soft glow cast its gloom through one of the large windows. It was a view covered in snow, and how she loved the snow.

Wrapped in a knitted purple shawl, she stood sipping hot tea while she watched how the flakes gently fell from the sky and coat the ground. As a tear fell from her cheek, she smiled while she began to recite a line from one of her favorite works of Poe.

"And so being you and dipped with folly. I fell in love with melancholy."

"So what, does that mean you lost your sense of adventure?" A voice broke the silence of her house, alerting her to the presence of her ghost. She didn't hide her joy when she saw him pretending to hide in a photo on the table beside her.

"I thought that you were too busy to visit today." Leaving the frosted window, she approached the frame while he leaned over the edge. "How's Doomie? Is he warming up?"

"Pfft, he's with that pink monstrosity. He's warm enough."

His face turned grumpy while he thought about how strange a relationship could be between cars. He shuddered when a mental image filtered through his mind.

"They are in love, Beej. You should be happy for them." Setting her cup down next to his frame, she knelt down next to the table. "Are you going to stay in there all day?"

Beetlejuice feigned surprise, "Oh, right! I almost forgot."

He vanished and appeared next to her, suit and all. After giving his hand a long and twisted lick, he slicked back his hair. With a wink and a leer, he awaited his praise for transitioning worlds without a summoning.

She giggled, standing up while wrapping her shawl around herself tighter. "I still can't believe you agreed to that restriction."

His face fell, "Not the greeting I was hoping for but sure, I'll bite. You know Lyds, it's not every day that a ghost gives up his free will to a breather. What can I say? I knew you would be a hoot."

He shifted himself into an owl and enjoyed the bright expression on Lydia's face.

"Knowing you, I would say it has never happened before. You have never been the type of guy to let yourself get tied down."

"I would, for the right girl," he said with a flirtatious smile, but then blanched when Lydia's posture stiffened up. "Errr, ya know, I was wondering if you finished that book I gave ya. Eternity with your best bud wouldn't be half bad, am I right?"

Slowly unfreezing, Lydia felt how her heart began to beat just a little faster as her cheeks flushed. It wasn't until she walked over to the sofa, where she left the book on the Neitherworld, that she was able to regain control of herself.

"I didn't finish it, but I got pretty far." She picked it up and held it out to him. "It's written just like the Handbook."

"Yeah well, it's better that way. No misinterpretations." He accepted the book and flipped it open. "'Residency in the Neitherworld is dependent on a series of factors, all of which require a blood debt too steep to repay with repentance alone.' "

Closing the book with a snap, Beetlejuice transformed himself into a priests attire. He adopted a superior tone and accent, "Tell me, child, do you repent for your sins?! Do you wish to reverse the evil deeds you hath committed?"

Lydia chuckled and shook her head. "Crazy old ghost."

Walking away, Beej felt himself wilt at her lack of response. Near to pouting, he watched as she left the room only to return with a wrapped box no more significant than her palm.

He raised an eyebrow when she held it out to him, only hesitating a moment before he took it from her.

"There was something in that book that caught my attention." She said, picking up her tea and finding a comfortable spot on the couch. As she waited for his reaction, she smiled as she sipped her warm beverage.

Carefully he unwrapped and opened the gift, and after lifting up the watch, he was completely and utterly stunned by it.

"You serious?" Dropping the box, he held onto the watch and then flipped it over to read the inscription.

"Our existence is but a brief light between two eternities of Darkness…" My last minutes of this world are for you, B

Lydia

"Lyds…" Clutching the watch, his face broke out in a huge smile showing all his teeth. She smirked in return before hiding it behind yet another sip from her cup.

At an incredible speed, he crossed the room and lifted her into the air, spinning her around before squeezing her into a hug.

"Merry Christmas, Beej," She laughed when he had finally put her down.

Upon the floor, the tea was spilled while upon the coffee table sat two books, and finally in his pocket was the watch. It was a symbol that had been freely given from the living to the dead. It was a pledge and a curse placed upon the mortal's soul.

Lydia Deetz had just upped the stakes in the deal that had once been made by a child, both innocent and tarnished. A life for a life…

Both doomed to walk between two eternities.


	8. Masque of the Red Death

"And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death... And the Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable domination over all." - Edgar Allan Poe

Masque of the Red Death

Spells and pacts between the living and the dead can easily be twisted into the favor of one over the other. Should anyone get involved with an entity, without knowing the full extent of the other's intentions, is a folly that one could hardly expect to have a favorable outcome.

Luckily for Lydia, she had done all of the reading that she could before altering her pact with Beetlejuice. She knew exactly what she was getting out of it, and in the end, she never saw herself living out a normal life, even before her act of violence.

Had she not succumbed to her inner desire to slit her step-mother's throat, there was no telling how long it would be until Lydia discovered the Neitherworld's real purpose. The impression that it was a place where everyone ends up after death was never challenged, and no one who resided in that world ever talked about life. For all that she knew, being reborn after death had either wiped away memories or they were at their purest when reborn.

The truth was far more complex, and the rules were vague in most cases. All Lydia knew for a fact, was that her pact with Beej would alter her transition between worlds when her time came.

Time … well, that was all Lydia needed to understand that she didn't regret the murders one bit. She felt nothing except for the satisfaction at how easily the knife cut through flesh, and how the blood oozed slowly before pouring out like a river down her chest.

In the last few weeks, Lydia replayed that moment over and over again, reliving the thrill at how easily she had gotten away with it. Not even an ounce of suspicion in her direction. It was easy to compartmentalize that bit of her personality in order to move forward with her life. Now she only needed to adjust to having the house to herself.

Her days were filled with simple joys. Caring for herself, working on her various art projects and living the memories that were returning. She discovered the satisfaction that came by recalling the look of horror and betrayal in her biological mother's eyes. Once again, feeling no regret for her actions.

Her mother, she recalled, always maintained a distance. Lydia remembered the cold shield of fear and dread that radiated off her mother each time she walked into a room, and with how often she emotionally abused her father, Lydia would have never accepted her as anything other than a woman who happened to be with her father.

Mother.

Twice over, Lydia Deetz committed matricide.

At least while her father was alive, Delia had made him happy. For that, she was actually pleased and had willingly gone through the woman's obnoxious interferences if it meant that her Daddy would smile.

While Lydia missed her father, now was not the time to lament on things lost. With the knowledge of her father being a good and honest man, even if he had been a little intense in his former real estate business practices, he would definitely not be in the Neitherworld. A land where cold-blooded criminals and the mentally insane were doomed to forget who they were and live an afterlife in oblivious frivolity.

No, it was not the time.

It was New Year's Eve, and the town was preparing for their annual celebration. Formerly under the curation of Delia Deetz, the party would now be hosted by Claire Brewster. Lydia had half a mind to visit her friends on the other side, but she had promised Bertha and Prudence that she would attend the festivities.

As it were, Lydia stood in front of the long mirror while examining her deep crimson gown. With shoulders bare, the choker that adorned her neck complimented the black lace fringe that accented her bodice. Fingering through the ruffles on the bell skirt, it had a red and black striped-pattern that emphasized its unusual shape.

"Whoa," a voice came from her vanity. "what a knockout!"

Comically, with added sound effects, she turned just in time to see a boxing glove deck him in his face. He stood up, chuckling, "You look great, Lyds."

Giggling with a coy smile, she lifted her shoulder in mock flirtation. "Eat your heart out, Beej."

"Don't mind if I do," he said while reaching into his chest and pulling out a pulsing heart. He took a bite out of it. Unfortunately, he chose the not-so-child-friendly version. His heart and blood oozed from between his lips, the organ still in his hand. "Mmmm, Juicy"

Lydia nearly choked on her laughter. "Beetlejuice! That was disgusting!"

"Eh, you love it." The bloody ghost unleashed a surge of his power, returning to his usual gruesome self.

"Well, you know just how to get a girls blood pumping," Lydia crossed the room to her vanity and picked up her last accessory, her mask.

"Been knocking 'em dead for centuries. It's all in the execution, you know what I mean."

As she returned to her floor length mirror, Beej slipped through the glass of the vanity.

"Speaking of 'execution,'" she fastened her mask in place and with a shift of a bobby pin, she twisted a curled tendril around her finger to place it into her up-do. "How many of your kills were women?"

A dark chuckle escaped him, "What makes you think I killed women?"

Lydia raised an eyebrow, "So, all those times you called yourself a 'Lady Killer'..."

"Traditional sense, Babes. Killin' them for a brief glimpse of bliss is the best description of that exquisite moment of release," Beej kissed his fingertips, smacking them loudly.

"Uh, huh, sure. I will believe it when I experience it for myself," she taunted, flicking her eyes in his direction just in time to see his hungry expression. With a satisfied feeling burning inside, she twirled for him.

"There, how do I look?"

"Like a dish ready to be eaten," he purred, coming up behind her to adjust her choker. He may or may not have let his fingers linger on her décolletage for longer than necessary.

Leaning against him, she rested her weight on his sturdy frame, fluttered her eyelashes, and dramatically placed her wrist to her forehead. "And to think, I am without an escort. Whatever shall I do?"

"Call off the breathers and celebrate with the ghouls in my world?" He suggested while averting his gaze away from the temptation of dipping his tongue into that valley between her breast. "On second thought, you should probably make sure the breathers know you are still alive, so they don't start snooping around the joint."

Before putting some deliberate space between them, he helped her up to stand on her own. Taking steps in the opposite direction, Lydia looked beyond peeved behind her mask as she picked up her clutch and left the room.

Remaining where he was, Beetlejuice mentally cursed himself for letting her get to him. One of these days, he wasn't going to be able to restrain himself.

—-

Choosing to let Doomie stay at home and in the warmth of his garage, Lydia slipped into the taxi that she had called for. At least someone had a partner who admitted their feelings. Lydia was starting to grow increasingly agitated with the push and pull between her and Beej.

For how grimy and disgusting as he could be, she knew that there was more to him than some feigned spectral odors and jelly encrusted toes. He was a ghost. All that he had held onto with his solidified form was a deliberate choice and not physical by any rational sense at all. He was forcing everyone away, and lately, he was doing the same with her.

How much more obvious could she be? She wondered to herself as her taxi approached the banquet hall. She had flirted with him, given suggestive commentary, and had practically undressed when she knew that he was peeking in on her. Yet, nothing seemed to be working.

With a sigh, she gathered her skirts and exited the vehicle, taking her time to step away from the designated arrival point and then on to the carpeted path.

Ever the prima donna, Claire had replicated a red carpet entrance leading to the masquerade ball. The sweeping spotlights outside of the building were not part of the original structure but added to the illusion that the attendees were part of a grand Hollywood opening rather than a small town party.

The community center had never looked so ostentatious.

After paying her cab driver, who gave her a toothy leer, she made her way into the vipers' nest. Pausing just before opening the door, Lydia began to wonder if she was indeed the last to arrive as no other vehicles were pulling up. From inside the building, she could see the entirety of the town reveling and laughing.

Masquerades were rare in their part of town, and she had hardly expected Claire to come up with the idea. In fact, when Lydia had initially suggested it to Delia, she distinctly remembered how her step-mother rejected the concept on the spot.

The moment the door was opened by a masked doorman, she knew that the theme was not a coincidence. Stepping in she took in all the glamour that felt distinctly reminiscent of her sketches depicting the "glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm" of the halls and ballrooms of the Masque of the Red Death.

The villain of her childhood had managed to sully a centuries-old, whimsical, and mysterious tradition by ripping out its soul. Claire never had an interest in literature, and so, she didn't understand the meaning of the colors, the symbology nor the irony in taking something from Lydia's ideality. Under the frills and black pearls, Lydia seethed with contempt and disdain. Her face was as stern and unyielding as the mask she wore, unwilling to display the rage that boiled within.

With determined steps, Lydia entered the fray. The party revelers each wore distinct facades that hid their identities or at least the face they choose to show to the world. The faces made of plaster showed more truth than any of their fleshy counterparts could ever muster. Lydia stalked among them, guessing at who the individuals were by their voices and gestures until the clock struck ten. Two hours until the New Year.

Her anger built like a steady stream. Slowly boiling the metaphorical frog until she was ready to let the steam out on the first person who would dare set her off.

"Is that, Deetz?" Someone whispered.

Lydia spun to search for the voice only to be met with faces watching her from all angles. Curious and confused, several individuals backed away while others murmured in disbelief at her arrival.

"Like, someone should tell Claire."

"That's insane. She is still alive."

"Dude, you owe me twenty."

"Rigged. Everyone said she was suicidal."

Comments from all directions began to build and build around her until her name was blended into nearly every conversation.

Spooked and upset, Lydia made her way through the party, but she was still unable to avoid the commentary.

"Who shows up to a party after their parents die?"

"She's always been a bit of a weirdo. Just ignore her."

"Fuck, that dress makes her look almost fuckable."

Glaring in the direction of the last comment, Lydia watched as a group of men, who were barely out of high school, try to hide their faux pas.

As luck would have it, at that moment, she had spotted Prudence and Bertha. If she hadn't known her friends as well as she did, she would have assumed that they didn't know she was there. As it were, she could see their eyes flit around the room while looking for an exit. It was then that they split off from each other and onto different directions.

With her mind made up, Lydia followed Bertha. That woman was her best chance of getting to the core of gossip. Perhaps it was just the overwhelming need to be included and a desire to be wanted or loved, Lydia didn't know, but Bertha was always eager to please. For that reason, it shocked Lydia when she realized that her friend was actively avoiding her.

As careful as a snake slithering through the grass, Lydia tailed her. Only twice did she lose sight of her, but as luck would have it, in the halls between the third and fourth room, she caught her by the wrist.

"Oh," cried Bertha, "Lydia. I didn't think you were coming."

It was then that her nerves revealed themselves in her posture and the way that she giggled.

"I almost didn't." She admitted while letting go of her friend's hand.

"Ah, yeah. I should... that is, I need to go find …. someone," Bertha stammered. Lydia narrowed her eyes, but her friend didn't cave. Instead, she quickly hugged Lydia and said. "I'm in a hurry. So many rooms, so little time."

Before Lydia could stop her, Bertha blended back into the multitude of disguised faces.

Uncomfortable and standing in the funnel of the hallway, Lydia attempted to backtrack but to no avail. She was forced to move forward.

More eyes, more stares, and whispers. Though she maintained calm, Lydia was nearly sick of it. As she passed, her name was unabashedly spoken in contexts of both lewd and derogatory while referring to various suspicions and speculations.

Beej might have been wrong about her attending this function, she concluded.

"Oh, Lydia. What a surprise to see you about," the light tap of a hand on her shoulder belonged to her former school teacher, Miss Shannon. The overly plump woman looked much older these days. No longer was her hair dyed red, and her face had lost the battle of wills against her diligent beauty routine.

Fascinated by this change, Lydia stared at the woman and wondered why her teacher hadn't chosen a more flattering mask other than the cheap Halloween store purchase.

"Hello, Miss Shannon." She greeted. Her voice lacked the enthusiasm to which the older woman frowned.

"I was just having a conversation about you with Mr. Kane." She began. Lydia tilted her head to hear what she had to say. "You're parents deaths were such a tragedy."

Lydia had a feeling this was going to be more than just about her parents, so she nodded and said solemnly. "It wasn't their time."

"Indeed, it was not, however, as Mr. Kane and I discussed; we noticed that you have not lived up to your potential. By twenty-three, most young women who leave my academy have either a stable job or stable man in their lives. You, my dear, don't appear to have either and.."

"While I appreciate your concern, there really is no need-"

"... I would like to take it upon myself to help you find a suitable match."

"Oooh, she went there," a tiny voice whispered in her ear. Involuntarily shuddering at the sound of his voice, she knew instantly that Beej was watching through the reflection of her earring.

"Miss Shannon, I'm going to have to politely decline," she said in a nervous laugh, prompting the older woman to straighten up her posture.

"Lydia Deetz, you are a woman of marriageable age, and now with you being all alone in this world, you will need someone to support you. No student of mine is going to be without prosperity."

A scoff broke their conversation, "As if. Lydia Deetz? Married? She would bore her husband to death. Am I right?"

Glaring as she passed, the fake-tanned, stuck-up bully, drew up her overly fluffy fan and hid her malicious smile. Snapping it closed, she moved in close enough to brush the feathers under Lydia's chin as she whispered. "The only man in your life looked like he was about ready to die way back when we were kids. I wonder why your creepo stalker isn't here?"

Giggling at the murderous expression on Lydia's face, she sashayed away to mingle with the crowd.

"I'm gonna get her," Lydia muttered under her breath, the cackle in her ear gave her another round of shivers.

"Eyes on the prize, Lyds. We'll take care of everything eventually." His voice sounded like it was fading away as he spoke. She could only take it as an indication that he had closed whatever portal he was using to check in on her.

"Ms. Brewster does have a point about you spending time with that swindler. What was his name again? Beetleman?" Miss Shannon snubbed her nose in the air. "He is nothing but a shyster, a con-man, a crook, a-"

"Miss Shannon. Please. I know that you don't see the best in Mr. Beetleman, but I can assure you that he has no intention of swindling me out of my inheritance."

With another huff, she walked off muttering, "I highly doubt that he's after money."

Disappearing among the dancers, Miss Shannon walked with her head held high. Lydia had never been more grateful that Beej felt no attraction for that woman. She never forgot how her teacher had indulged herself with a crush on Professor BeetleBurg, and then how horrified she was to discover that he was none other than The Handyman: Mr. Beetleman.

Had anything come of Miss Shannon's advances, then there would be no choice for Lydia than to admit her jealousy.

The party continued around her as she watched the woman move on to speak with someone else. She had hoped that would be the end of the uncomfortable encounters, but with the numbers in attendance, she knew that would be nothing more than a wishful thought.

Bertha was no longer in the vicinity, and Lydia had yet to spy Prudence. With a sigh, Lydia moved on to yet another room.

—-

Prudence wasn't looking forward to confrontation. In fact, she didn't like it at all. Being an introvert who spent the majority of her time with the dead, she wasn't prepared for any conversation where she may need to withhold information.

Should she encounter Lydia, that would have been the case. As much as she loved and cared for her, she didn't know if she was capable of pretending that nothing was wrong. The tests came back on the autopsy, and sure enough, Mrs. Deetz had been murdered.

The time of death and discovery of the body didn't match. Even if she had died in that accident, her body would have frozen much sooner, and the coagulation of her blood wouldn't have been in the condition that it was.

Furthermore, she didn't have a coat.

Then there was the slit in her neck. It held pieces of chopped vegetables. Had Prudence not inspected the wound further, she would have been horrified to admit her oversight, that the cuts on the rest of Delia's body didn't match the one on her neck.

Delia Deetz was indeed a victim.

Suspect? Well, that one was difficult to put a finger on. Interrogating Lydia about her mother's friends and enemies just felt so wrong. With Charles Deetz passing and Delia's "accident," Lydia was bound to be fragile.

It was almost tempting to ask Mr. Beetleman, but knowing him, he would have been the one to tell Lydia everything.

Subtle. That was how it needed to be played, and so, when Prudence spotted Lydia searching the fifth room, she made the bold move and approached her.

When Prudence touched her elbow from behind her, Lydia gave a slight jump.

"I think that's the first time you've ever startled me," Lydia chuckled as she turned around.

"I hardly call that a startle. You barely flinched."

To that, Lydia just smiled.

"I'm glad that you decided to come to the party. I know it's not the easiest place to be after… everything." Prudence glanced around at the people surrounding them.

"I already ran into Clare Brewster." Rolling her eyes, Lydia huffed out the last of her frustration.

At the mention of Claire, Prudence shrank into herself, "She is in her element. Always flaunting as usual."

"Mother was the same sometimes. I can't imagine that this ball would have been much different."

"What makes you say that?" Prudence didn't know what to make of that connection, but at least it got her on the track that she was aiming for. Any excuse to bring up Mrs. Deetz was fine by her.

"This theme..." she waved her hands around. "... it can't be a coincidence that the decorations look just like the drawings that I offered to mother when she had hit 'designers' block."

Lydia's posture withered and Prudence didn't know what to say to this, so rather than poke around with small talk, she chose to go in for the kill, so to speak.

"She didn't bully anyone, I hope? Your mom always seemed so nice, and I can't imagine she would be anything like Claire."

Lydia scoffed. "Mother was perfect for everyone. She knew the best way to get what she wanted."

"No rivals?" Prudence pushed her glasses up. "I mean everyone has at least one person…"

"Mother had plenty of rivals." Lydia interrupted. This surprised Prudence. Her friend had always been patient and polite. In response, the small redhead's mouth hung open while she searched for words.

Unable to regain control of the conversation, Prudence shrank into herself. Instinctually wrapping her arms around her tiny body, she was glad for the long gloves and the mask that covered up the majority of her face.

"Prudence, can I ask you something?" Lydia lifted her chin and looked off in the distance, directly into the next room. "When Claire had "fixed" her place as valedictorian… Did you ever want revenge?"

"Lydia! Why would… I mean… what makes you ask..."

"Never mind. It's just a silly question." Lydia returned her attention to her friend. "Sometimes, I feel like she got away with too much. Taking valedictorian from you and then stealing Bertha's fiancé…."

"Not to mention All of those years that she tormented you," Prudence added.

"Ever wonder how life would be without her?" Lydia looked in that far away direction again.

For a brief moment, Prudence felt uncomfortable at the implications of such thoughts but shook it off. There were times that she had wished revenge on Claire. Particularly when she was unable to secure the scholarship that she needed to go further in her studies because she didn't get valedictorian. Settling as the medical examiner was not her first career choice.

"Sometimes," she reluctantly admitted. "I don't think I've ever disliked anyone more in my life."

"I doubt anyone would disagree."

Prudence didn't like the way that last part had been phrased.

She adjusted her mask and glasses again, "Well, I -uh- I should go and find Bertha. Ha-have a good time l-let us know of anything -"

"I'll be ok." Lydia offered a gentle smile.

Offering one in return, Prudence rushed back to the first hall, for some much needed time to process all that had been disclosed.

—-

The ghost was gone, Bertha was avoiding her, and then Prudence got spooked by Lydia's casual commentary on the rivalry.

This had left Lydia to wander the masque alone.

Contemplating the manifestation of her designs on the walls, she wondered how on earth, Claire was able to recreate her work. Had they already been finished before she took the job? Did Delia create them and then claimed them as her own vision? It was nothing more than speculation since Lydia no longer felt any anger for her step-mother.

The woman was gone. Laid to rest beside her father in a rushed funeral to which Lydia made only a brief visit to drop an unusual yellow carnation on her stone, and a deep red rose on her fathers.

The placement of that flower seemed to mark a moment for Lydia. She felt complete. Like her raison d'etre had finally been realized the moment that she came to terms with how she helped place that body into the earth.

She felt like the embodiment of death as she watched life swirl around her in elaborate finery. Their cares were not hers. She was adrift among the brief flecks of life.

Her eyes settled upon another soul, equally adrift, who also appeared to avoid the waves of laughter. Occasionally lifting a weak smile to those who greeted him, Allen rested in a corner, his arms crossed and observing the chaotic world that flowed around them. From across the room, one could feel his standoffish shield as if he were projecting his desire to be left alone.

If only to prove that nothing was out of her reach now that she knew her own self, Lydia was tempted to cross that line. It was only out of respect for the police officer that she let him be. His life was also at a turning point, and she understood that well. According to Bertha, his parents had been out of the picture since he was young, and his grandparents were his everything. Now, he too was an orphan, but unlike Lydia, his pain was doubled because he had loved and lost them both within a year.

—-

"She is, like, such a freak." Claire laughed loudly as she applied her fuschia lipstick to her already pigmented perfection. She dabbed at her lower lip with her pinky finger to test for thickness. Unnecessary? Perhaps but for her, perfection was in the details.

"Can you believe that she actually had the guts to show her ghastly, pasty complexion at this party?"

Uncomfortably shifting away from Claire, was Monica who mimicked the motions of the other.

"She was bound to come, Claire. After all, her mother was planning the-"

"Ugh, no! I planned this party. It's my name on the invite so, like, get a clue!"

The girl went silent for fear of being asked to leave or even possibly losing her place as a member of the entourage. Claire quirked a self-satisfying smirk when she knew that she had won.

As a reward to herself, she pulled out a delicate little powder box that appeared to be nothing more than a custom designed makeup compact. Upon flipping it open, the contents appeared to be too white for any form of makeup. Monica's eyes widened when Claire dipped her finger into the substance before bringing it to her nose, inhaling the powder.

"You have got to be kidding me!" The other girl squealed.

"For Christ sake, lighten up. It's not like anyone will ever know." Dipping again for good measure, only this time, Claire had accidentally left a light but noticeable amount of residue on the tip of her perfect little nose.

The door behind them swung open, and Claire stared at the startled expression of Lydia Deetz.

"Like, of course, you would be the one to walk in here. Look, Deetz, you better keep your gob closed if you know what's good for you." Snapping her compact shut, Claire wiped the tip of her nose and stalked off. This time, she didn't even pretend that pushing Lydia aside was an accident.

Still, Monica scurried past Lydia to catch up with Claire.

—-

"Well…" Lydia said to herself as she approached the mirror that was in front of her to take in her reflection. "That explains more than I ever cared to know."

Sadly, the reflection did not respond. Yup, she had been correct in assuming that her ghost had closed all communication for the night. It's too bad, she thought. She had half a mind to summon him just for a few laughs.

Instead, she took a moment to think about what she had just accidentally witnessed upon opening the door to the washroom. Finding the washroom had not been her goal, but it was pure curiosity that had prompted her to open the door. It was only by chance that she had seen what she was not meant to see.

"'There are some secrets which do not permit,'" Lydia quoted and grinned. "Too bad I can't remember if he had any quotes about doors and opportunities."

Turning away from the mirror, she missed the shimmer of the portal shifting as Beej saw his mortal friend walk back into the party. He certainly admired the curve of her body as she swayed with each step.

While he wouldn't admit it out loud, he was disappointed that he had not been able to escort her while she wore that get up. Soon though, he would make his reappearance to the town of Peaceful Pines, and then no one would have a say in how often he could hang out with the kid.

A/N: Remember to check out the A03 version to see illustrations of this story by GhostlyHauntings. She and I would love to hear what you think of the story so far.


	9. Chords in the Heart

**Ch 9. Chords in the Heart**

_"There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion" Edgar Allen Poe_

Returning to the ballroom, Lydia awaited the New Years chime. Since neither Bertha nor Prudence seemed to be willing to celebrate with her; she now felt isolated from all the frivolity that was surrounding her.

At least that was until a drunken stumble broke her contemplation.

The man in question held up his glass and apologized. She found it amusing that his eyes never looked up to her face but instead stayed fixated on the cleavage peeking out of her bodice.

With a nod, she accepted his apology and took two steps away in the opposite direction.

"Lydia Deetz!" A woman cried, "I - I am so so sorry about your mother. And so soon after Charles. My heart is just broken. Devastated really…."

Lydia backstepped, closing her eyes with a prayer to the gods that she wouldn't say or do anything she that would regret.

"I mean to think, a single woman all alone in that big house on the hill-"

"Jane." She said patiently. "I am not moving, nor am I selling my house."

"Oh, but Lydia, your father had so many properties. So many of them are a perfect size for a woman with no children."

Continuing to ramble, Jane completely ignored the look of murderous contempt on Lydia's face.

"After all, I have seen no prospects of a lover in all these years. You know, I was talking with the school teacher Ms. Shannon, and she seems to think that you need to spread your wings and go out in search of a man."

Clenching her fists, Lydia's heart began to pick up in a steady rhythm as she watched the woman go on. Jane was breathing rather quickly and talking herself down a road that she would be unable to backpedal from.

By a stroke of luck, a male voice excused himself into the conversation.

"Jane Butterfield. It's so lovely to see you and in such a flattering ball gown at that." Appearing by Lydia's side was Allen, who took the older woman's hand. His placement of a polite peck upon her hand made her erupt into a tizzy of girlish giggles.

"Oh my. Well, Officer Dichter… I'm flattered," She gushed.

Allen placed his hand on Lydia's lower back, taking her by complete surprise. Typically he was very reserved, and this contact was something that she would have never expected from him.

"I was hoping that it wouldn't be too much trouble if I whisked my friend into a dance before the midnight toll."

Gifting him a grateful smile, Lydia willingly followed him onto the dance floor without giving another thought to the irritating real estate woman.

Taking Lydia's hand and hip into a proper waltz stance, Allen fumbled for words only to be met with her amused large brown eyes. He froze when she giggled.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, I mean, no problem" He gave her a lopsided grin to which she returned with ease as she relaxed into a slow, steady rhythm.

"So, uh. Jane really has it out for your house."

"Jane is a viper." Lydia shrugged one shoulder. It wasn't news to the community, but it was slightly irritating to have the woman breathing down the necks of every homeowner in the surrounding towns.

"She visited me too, after…" He clamped down on that train of thought.

Understanding flooded her while he struggled with himself. She opened up her senses to Allen, using a skill she rarely needed for, and she felt a rush of over-encompassing grief.

Few people could project their emotions and even fewer who knew how to keep them shielded, but this man had control over his aura that Lydia rarely came across. She had to reach deep, but once she was there, the amount of pain that radiated off her dance partner felt about equal to her own over the loss of her father.

"There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion." Lydia recited as they stepped into a rotation and danced in another direction.

Amused, Allen chuckled. "Did you just quote Poe?"

She hummed in affirmation, "Masque of the Red Death."

"Appropriate," He looked at her with amusement. "Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made."

Lydia beamed up at him, causing his heart to skip unexpectedly. As they waltzed in silence, she analyzed the fluctuations in his emotions. Her expression faltered when she felt doubt slip through his fascination.

"Is everything alright?" He asked as he gently brushed his thumb against her gloved hand.

"I've been able to feel things for years," she said softly, prompting Allen to perk up at her words. "Sensitive, some people call it. My father understood me better than anyone, but then his nerves finally cracked. After that, we moved here to find peace."

"Peaceful Pines. Makes sense."

"Delia loved him, but she didn't really understand either of us. The two of us had a bond that no one could ever really live up to… well… except for Beej."

Allen furrowed his brow, "How well do you know Mr. Beetleman?"

A light blush covered her cheeks. Although Allen remained silent as he waited for her response, this did not sit well with him.

"Not as well as I thought I did if I'm being honest." Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and imagined that the arms around her waist had instead belonged to her ghost. She flushed again.

"I know it's not my place to say this, but you probably shouldn't allow him to stay with you."

Lydia had felt the change within her dance partner. Opening her eyes, she considered this while deciphering if it had been concern or jealousy that had prompted him to speak.

Before Lydia could answer him, the inopportune shout of "Countdown!" interrupted her and the throngs of people around them had started the ten-second tradition.

The numbers descended in even ticks until a tumultuous uproar of jeering and whoops exploded when the clock tolled its midnight bell. Had she been alone, Lydia would have found that an opportune time to leave.

Instead, she found herself with a pair of warm arms around her and soft lips that gently pressed against her own. It was tender, friendly, but a yearning came from the other side of the kiss. She felt it. The want, the need… it mirrored the feelings that she held pent up for her dark apparition.

When she felt another pull of emotions, she pulled away. Those emotions were of anguish and then of pure unadulterated hate.

Stunned by the intrusion, both stepped back as they awkwardly wished each other a happy new year before they went their separate ways.

—-

"That muther fucker!" Beetlejuice raged while his voice echoed through the Roadhouse.

His night was officially ruined the moment that he took one last peek into his girls night. Here, he was hoping to surprise her by jumping in at the last second to whisk her away but no… No!

Instead, that god damned asswipe of a pretty boy had his fucking slimy hands on his Lyds. His Lydia!

If there ever was a moment where Beej was ready to rip someone's entrails out and wrap them around a fuckers neck to strangle them, this was it. That kiss… oh ho… that kiss had sealed the cops fate, it was just a matter of time.

Tonight, before his little breather could feel him, he had sealed the portal. That damned empathic wave. It had put a real damper on his pranks when she had developed her sensitive skill and latched onto his energy. It felt different somehow, especially since the day she had given him the watch.

Pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, he stomped over to the fridge for good measure before grabbing a beer.

Things were changing again. The damned world energy was shifting yet again, and he knew that it would only confuse the spirits around him even more.

"Blood magic." Muttering to himself, the cig was still his mouth as he cracked open the can. Throwing himself into the recliner, he settled in front of the tv and pulled one long drag before taking a swig of the brew. "I either need a body to mutilate or a good fuck."

He flicked on the tube.

—

"Are you miserable? Depressed? Anxious? Do you need some …. motivation?

Well then come on down to Dante's Inferno Room and get your groove on.

The finest ghouls this side of the veil.

Not interested in a physical experience? Let them possess your spirit and get you off using your own limbs against you. Nothing is impossible for our spooky, spicy Babes. They will bring out the devil inside, and you know you'll love every moment.

If you act now, you can get a special encounter with our two-headed headmistress. Bring you twice the experience for the price of one."

—

Growling, Beetlejuice shut off the tv and tossed his cig away to chug the last of his beer.

It was gonna be a long night.

—-

After the kiss fiasco, the night did not improve for Lydia. She really didn't want to lead on Allen, but she wasn't exactly sure what she would do about that little slip-up.

He had feelings for her, and it was terrifying.

Lydia had made her choice not to make anymore living connections. She wanted to be with Beej. He was her everything, and if what she had read in their initial agreement was anything to go by, she had basically promised him her soul.

In not so many words, she had picked that up from reading between the lines.

As a child, she was fascinated by the ghost who was so amused by her bloody little hands. Back then, she didn't fear him because her only fear had been losing her daddy.

Now, she didn't have anything left to fear.

"So like, did I just see what I thought I saw?" guffawing like her sides were about to split was Claire Brewster.

"What do you want, Claire?" Lydia's voice drawled out in monotone. The girl wasn't going to get a rise out of her tonight. She wouldn't let her.

"You and Mr. Dullsville Police man." She cackled. "You really are desperate. It's like you two were practically fucking on the ballroom floor."

Choosing to walk away, Lydia exited the building, but Claire was hot on her tail.

"Jesus Deetz, take a joke." The cocky way the girl spoke began to dip into condescension. "Honestly, I think it's about time you got laid. Maybe then you won't be such a freaky loner, and you might actually become someone worth having around."

"Claire…" Pausing her steps, Lydia took in a deep breath of the cold air. Centered, she nodded to the valet who then waved for one of the stand-by cabbies to approach the red carpet. "Go to hell."

Scoffing, Claire flipped her blonde hair and returned to her party.

In the cab, Lydia ignored the drivers small talk while her mind wandered over her transgression.

To make the night worse…Beej didn't show up to wish her a Happy New Year.


	10. Someone Touched My Heart

I wasn't insane until someone touched my heart. - Edgar Allen Poe

Someone Touched My Heart

Hangovers were horrible. Absolutely abhorrent.

After all those diligent years in which Jane Butterfield avoided drinking heavily, she somehow let the night of New Year's Eve get to her. Although there were several factors as to why:

One: The death of Charles Deetz had effectively cut her off from resources to his contacts. He never did trust her with the phone numbers. While they were on good terms, he was ever the shrewd businessman. Charles Deetz knew her type well and thus withheld the majority of his connections.

Two: The available land in the Connecticut countryside had either been snatched up by corporations seeking to develop shopping centers or town officials who aimed to preserve the woodlands. Neither were interested in the development of housing.

Three: Since those in number two had refused to build, the housing market in the county was dwindling due to the lack of available dwellings. The majority of the historical properties were owned by families who had refused to budge, and no amount of money would sway the owners. Which only left her with the option to lay in wait for the second generation to sell their inheritance.

And finally, the stubborn sentimental Second Generation.

That last one was 'the kicker,' to take a term from her child's vocabulary. Sentimental values were growing, and the money-hungry, ambitious twenty-somethings were becoming a rare occurrence in these small towns. Not to mention, that many of them had siblings and there was always that one who would put up a fight.

On a rare occasion, she could find an only child and should she succeed. She could get a reasonable price the moment that she had talked them into moving to the city. Then, she would collect a commission by referring these kids to her fellow agents and "score" on flipping the house in the country.

The trouble this year; two stubborn local kids. The Officer, who refused to sell his grandparent's home with its substantial acreage and then the Deetz Girl.

After watching the two waltz off into their own little selfish world, Jane had hit the bar.

Lydia Deetz was a thorn in her side. Now she held a handful of properties and had no idea of the potential that was under her power. She could have sold half while still collecting the rent from the smaller properties. That stupid child was now a well-off woman, but she had no ambitions to seek out any further success.

According to Delia, the girl would rather spend time at home playing with her camera and hanging out with that creepy handyman. Lydia didn't even have a job, and she was just as bad as the Brewster girl, living off her parent's success.

Even weirder than Brewster was that the Deetz girl had an unnatural attachment to her father. It was enough of an attachment that once it was noticed, Delia was quick to share what she knew about Charles's daughter. She had held nothing back once they knew that his time was coming to an end. It was as if spending that extended the amount of time in the hospital had broken some spell over the artistic woman. No longer did she smother Lydia with affection in the way that she used to when they had first arrived in town.

For a long time, Jane had always felt that something was off with that family, but she could never put her finger on what it was. Instead, she did what she could, by appealing to Charles Deetz's interest in homes and to Delia's hobby of eccentric sculptures and paintings. The one that she could never connect with was that child.

Still, it wasn't going to stop her from trying. She would get that house in Peaceful Pines soon enough. After all, it wasn't like she wasn't used to waiting. Her success in Winter River had proven that she could sell anything, even though the Maitlands had tried so hard to keep her away. If it hadn't been for the accident, she would have had to wait longer.

Her thoughts wandered to the broken bridge, and she wondered if anyone ever fixed it…

The ringing of the chimes, signaling a customer, jolted Jane from her musings and forced her back into her charming businesswoman persona.

"Welcome to Butterfield Real Estate, Can I… Oh! Claire Brewster! How lovely to see you!" She squashed the irritation that the spoiled child sparked inside her. No, not a child; a rich potential buyer.

"You are so welcome. I know it's hard to have a bad day when I come into town. So, like, what properties do you have? Daddy isn't going to come today. He's still out of town, and I'm supposed to buy a house or something." Dramatically, Claire sighed as she sank into the chair and didn't bother hiding her disgust for the decor.

"Oh, well, is that right?" Jane's expression widened. "Will this be a mansion, estate, or are you looking for a collection of townhouses? I hear that there is a cute little collection of cottages -"

"Ugh, eww, no. Nothing so basic. The house is for me since daddy said that I needed to buy my first house on my own, so, like, I took his card. I'm looking for something special. Something close to home cause I need the servants to come over and cook for me when Mummsie and Daddsie are out of town." Claire inspected her manicure and glanced around at all the images pinned to corks boards. They were strategically placed at the eye level of anyone standing, and she scrunched her nose in distaste.

"I'd be happy to help you find a place. Now let's see, we have a few houses near town. A couple of apartments and-"

"Why do you have a photo of the Deetz dump?" Claire stood up, completely interrupting Jane. The older woman harrumphed at the disruption and stood to follow the girl to the wall of her dream homes.

"These are homes that I am hoping to acquire one day. A wish list, so to speak. See there is your parents' mansion -"

"So you are, what, gonna sell it without telling her or something?"

Jane clenched her jaw. Tightening her lips to prevent herself from saying something she would regret and possibly scaring away the potential commission, she returned to her desk.

"Regretfully, no. Lydia is not willing to sell," Jane reached for her desk drawer and fumbled around inside of it for a file. "I have been working on a list of properties that remain in the Deetz's estate. Mrs. Deetz had a great eye for decor, and Charles Deetz was a location guru in many ways. So many of his properties have held a high interest in certain circles and THAT house, well, let's say it's a hot commodity."

Claire returned her eye to the photo on the wall.

"I guess it does have some potential"

Jane knew that look. It was the glint of greed and the satisfaction of a kill… Claire Brewster wanted that house.

Three days, nine hours, and twenty-seven minutes… give or take a few seconds depending on metaphysical time zones. Beej watched the clock. Tick tick tick…

While he never left his Roadhouse, the temptation to run down to Dante's never left him either.

This was hell.

All he wanted to do was go up there, and back to Lydia, help her little dark scheme flourish, but that damned image of her lip-locked with that breathing dickhead stopped him short. He didn't wanna risk walking in on something else.

So, he waited.

Lydia didn't have to summon him. She could, but she didn't have to use those words to get him to join her. Nor did she need them to visit him. She could come anytime she wanted. The fact that she hadn't led him to believe she was too busy and possibly too busy with that cop.

"I need another beer," he growled.

"No," A voice came from nowhere in particular, "You need to go up there and sweep her off her feet. Show her what you got."

His heart slipped out of his shirt.

"Oh, hell no. I thought I locked you in there for good. GET. BACK. IN. THERE." He nearly squeezed his own heart when he shoved it back into his chest. "I fucking hate this universe!"

Jumping up, Beetlejuice paced, but the voice echoed in his chest.

"She liked it. It made her laugh."

"She was a kid."

"Lydia is a woman."

"No fucking shit," Beej punched himself in the gut. "So stop tormenting me."

"Hey, you do this to yourself dick for brains." The inner voice yelled back. "Now grow a pair and stake your claim."

Three days and ten hours after the New Year, Lydia sulked in her living room.

Sulking was not something that she wanted to do, but it felt appropriate. There was a time, back in her childhood, when the dramatics of being a mopey feminine version of her favorite writer appealed to her sensibilities. It was nostalgic and cathartic.

She had chosen to speak to no one in the last few days and preferred seclusion over socialization in the aftermath of the ballroom disaster.

It really wasn't a disaster, per se, but in her heart, she felt like a betrayer.

'There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust.'

Lydia picked up the Handbook and flipped through its contents. Settling herself on her sofa, she began with her ritual of picking through passages to find more information on the afterlife and its intricate rule system.

"There is a subtle difference between the act of taking one's life and martyrdom. In the event that the suicide is at the hands of another, there is a strict criterion for The Martyrdom Defense in regards to misplacement of limbo residency."

Lydia looked around the room in search of her notebook to bookmark her next point of research when the doorbell rang. Carefully she set the book aside, sliding in her bookmark as a reminder to return to the chapter later, and set off for the front door.

It certainly wasn't one of her friends, because they all knew to use the kitchen entrance.

After peeking through the peephole, she let out an audible groan before opening the door.

"It, like, took you long enough." Claire Brewster shivered in her coat, "It's totally freezing out here."

Pushing past Lydia, Claire intruded into the house.

"Um, excuse me?" Lydia offered, under her rudeness did not go unnoticed when surprise won out over outrage. "Claire?"

"Look, Deetz." The girl spun on the spot, rubbing her elbows and shivering as her body began to adjust to the warmth of the house. "I'm not really good with doing the 'goody-two-shoes' thing, and apologizing for shit that I'm not even sure I need to apologize for, but I got a letter from my parents that told me that I needed to make nice with you."

Stunned, Lydia closed the door behind her and adjusted her winter wrap around her shoulders.

"Why?" She asked.

"Like, what's your damage, Lydia? I said I'm here to apologize." She scoffed. Taking her jacket off, she walked into the living room and, as she passed, she threw the coat down onto the sofa.

Lydia watched as Claire sized the house up and down before smiling.

"I say you made out like a bandit with this place. Custom layout and architecture. Old Mrs. Deetz did a stellar job."

"What exactly are you here to apologize for? I'm in the middle of something."

"Oh, puh-lease. You aren't doing shit. No one has seen you since the party. I would have thought you finally got a good lay in, but Officer Loner was moping around town, and that is not a guy who has had his world rocked."

Guilt punched Lydia in the gut, and had she had access to Neitherworld powers; she would have no doubt given Claire a good show with how she was beating herself up. That damned kiss was going to ruin her.

"Not that it's any of your business, Claire, but I am in the middle of something. Now, I can accept your fake apology, since I know you don't really mean it, and we can go our separate ways."

Lydia pleaded with whatever gods that were listening that the blonde would leave her home before the urge to …. well… she wouldn't put it into words just yet.

"Unlikely." Claire took a seat on the armrest of the sofa that Lydia had earlier been occupying. "It's not the only reason that I'm here. You see, Daddy had a deal with your mother before she kicked the bucket. It seems, like, she was afraid that your dear old pops was going senile and asked that our lawyers review the will that he used to name you as the … ugh… what's the word.. executioner?"

"Executor," She corrected, with a roll of her eyes.

"Whatever. Thing is, I had a little chat with Jane Butterfield."

Lydia's expression of disinterest sharpened and her eyes penetrated into the hidden motives of her former tormentor.

"She, like, really wants to make a pretty penny so…" Claire stood up and placed her perfectly manicured hands on her hips. "I'm gonna take this dump off your hands."

With a red flash, a rush of adrenaline surged inside of Lydia as her posture straightened. "Get out."

Ignoring Lydia, Claire turned her back on her and trailed her hands along the wallpaper until she reached the wooden accents that separated the living room from the kitchen.

"I mean, after all, Jane had a point. Like, who would end up marrying you? You couldn't keep up with all this without someone to support your jobless ass." Claire's laugh bubbled. "I mean, look at you! I bet you're still a virgin."

The growing rage began to boil from under the surface of her very flesh. Each pulse of her heart brought the pure, unadulterated hate from deep within Lydia's core. After all these years of putting up with that spoiled brat's taunting and scheming….

After Claire screwed over Prudence, Humiliated Bertha, and tormented Lydia….

"Speaking of, I swear I'm surprised that creepy ass pedo handyman didn't pop your cherry years ago." With a cackle, Claire faced Lydia and smirked. "I guess it's too late now since Little Lydia is all grown up with tits and everything. You probably just got too old for him."

Snatching her father's letter opener from the table by the doorway, Lydia stomped across the room. With one swift motion, accompanying the surprised expression on Claire Brewster's overly tanned face caked with makeup, she impaled the sharp object into the flesh just above her clavicle.

With a spurt of blood that hit Lydia square in the face, she stabbed again. "Beej would never, EVER, have touched me! He loves me! He wouldn't hurt me, you pathetic excuse of a whore!"

Screeching, she stabbed again as all of the anguish through the many years burst forth. She wasn't even horrified by the words that flew from her lips, nor did she flinch at the tears that came from the dying girl's eyes.

"How dare you speak of him as if you know anything! You don't know anything! I love him, and no one, NO one insults him. No one will ever say another cruel thing about my ghost ever again!"

With a final shriek, Lydia gave one last stab into Claire's abdomen. Breathing heavily, she studied her handy work and grinned.

"Thank you, Claire." She laughed with a wickedness that would have rivaled The Ghost With The Most himself. "I guess all I needed was just one more push."

"Hot Fucking Damn!"

Spinning around, Lydia found Beetlejuice with his mouth agape, standing in the archway near the base of the stairs and holding a bouquet of dead roses and lilies. While still panting from the exertion of her kill, Lydia moved away from the mutilated body of her victim.

"B...Beetlejuice" she stuttered and collected herself while dropping the letter opener. Her face and body covered in blood, and the innocent, surprised look on her face did nothing to take away the glorious vision before him.

Beetlejuice had now witnessed three murders at the hands of this petite waif of a woman, but this…. was too much. As he dropped the flowers onto the floor, Lydia's lips began to tremble, ready to spout words of apology or a suitable explanation though neither would come.

Crossing the room with determined steps, he reached her quivering figure. Grabbing her by the base of her neck, he captured her mouth with his and stifled her cry of surprise.

With his other hand on her face, he smeared the blood across her cheek while he devoured her breath. With a quick adjustment, his hands lowered to grasp her hips, hoisting the girl up, while her legs knew what he wanted as they wrapped around him.

A growl of pleasure escaped him. For years he had waited for this. The ages upon ages of denying himself the carnal relief as he watched for a sign that she wanted him just as much.

Lydia returned his need tenfold, while she yanked on his tie to loosen up the knot, as her hips gyrated against his, pleased by the feel of his hardness.

They wanted. They needed, and then they topped over onto the sofa. She straddled him, ripping her blouse above her head in the process. Beej didn't need to be told that he should do the same. Quickly, yet comically, he divested himself of his shirt and jacket, while the tie unraveled itself and flew off to the other end of the room.

After Beej juiced away her bra to follow his tie, only then did they pause.

He looked her over, she was wild, dangerous, with blood all over her hands and face. Taking his hands, he smeared the red liquid down her neck, between the valley of her breasts and across her belly. Fingering the edges of her pants with a wicked smirk, he blinked releasing his power to strip them both of clothing in an instant.

He was on her faster than she could process their change in position. Lifting her legs over his shoulder, he propped himself between her legs.

"I've seen what you've done with that sham of a toy, Babes. You will like this so much better."

After plunging in, she screamed, and he wasn't wrong. She did like that better.

Her body had acclimated over the years to accommodate her imaginary lover, but now that he was fully realized, she was slick, moist, and ready for that forceful entry.

Arching against him, she cried his name.

"Oh, yeah. Say it again, Lydia." He growled and began pumping into her.

"Beetle-juice." Lydia cried, before pulling him back down to feed on his lips with hard kisses.

His mind was gone. He was mad, crazed, and he needed this woman to scream bloody murder. As his speed increased, she released him, tilting her head back, crying out in pleasure and pain.

The combination of sensations left her limp and helpless to his onslaught, as her leg slipped off his shoulder and onto the backrest of the sofa. The other dangled, and held for a moment longer, before slipping off, only to be caught by his elbow while it hung over the edge.

"That's right, Babes." He licked her, following that trail of blood. "Scream for me."

And she did, loud, and without restraint. She cried out while he slammed the full force into her until her body greedily clenched around him.

"Son of a —- ung, fuck" He collapsed on top of her.

The scene was a gory, fucking mess, but neither paid much mind to the body that was in the middle of the room. As it oozed out the lifeblood of one they both despised, both were oddly grateful. That bitch really did bring them together after all.


	11. Entirely Horrible

"There are certain themes of which the interest is all-absorbing, but which are too entirely horrible for the purposes of legitimate fiction." - Edgar Allan Poe

Ch.11 Entirely Horrible For The Purposes of Legitimate Fiction

If ever there was a time when his soul felt calm, Beetlejuice couldn't remember. The notion was absurd to him in so many ways. Yet he found glimpses of that peace when he entertained and amused Lydia from childhood on into adulthood.

She became a beacon for him — a way to light where his damned soul never belonged.

Lydia, the living embodiment of what he could never have, a calm stone in the sea as she often referred to herself. He was far too manic for such a personality trait.

Yet, as he lay on the sofa in her living room with the breathing body of the girl turned woman on him, naked and satiated, he couldn't help but acknowledge that he finally achieved a true moment of peace. He connected with the mortal entity, the other half of his pact.

By all rights of Afterlife Corporal Spiritual Union, she was his. He was hesitant, however, to bring up the subject for fear, she would take it all back. He didn't think he could remain in existence if she chose to take back the last hour of relentless fucking.

With a hum, the beauty covered in the red streaks of her enemies blood lifted her head and gave him a lazy smile.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this, Beetlejuice." She spoke with such adoration in her voice that he near melted on the spot.

"You have no idea how long I've been holding back," His grin was lopsided. A goofy sort of expression that just didn't fit on someone capable of committing crimes involving life and death.

Her annoyed expression prompted a low chuckle from deep inside. "Never expected ya to be such a wild cat in the sac, Babes. Be Careful. Bringing out the demon in me is a dangerous game. There's only so much of a warning you'll get when you mess with this ghost."

Her gaze narrowed, growing sultry as her foot slid up his ankle to his calf.

"I know what I'm getting into, Beej. Maybe you should be more afraid of me."

Beej arched his eyebrow at her, "What are you getting at there?"

"Oh, nothing." She teased while she pushed herself up off his body. Narrowly escaping his grasp when he reached for her. A delighted laugh escaped her the moment he slipped off the sofa.

He was about to curse at her, but then she bent over and picked up her copy of the Handbook that had fallen to the floor. His eyes devoured the sight.

Lydia ignored the hungry expression on Beej's face. She took in the wreckage they wrought in her living room, only sparing a glance at Claire's lifeless body. A slightly amused smile curved at her lips before tapping them thoughtfully.

"You know, I learned something about Claire at the New Years party." She said lightly. His sour expression didn't go unnoticed though she chose to stay silent on that subject. She had a feeling as to what prompted his mood to change.

"Oh yeah?" He grumbled. "Did it have to do with her nose powdering habits?"

Lydia's grin grew. "That's one way to put it."

Beetlejuice righted himself before over dramatically stretching his nude body. Lydia gave him a thorough examination followed by an approving nod when he questioned her actions with one raise of an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well. Some kids don't hide their secrets very well." He floated off his feet over to his Babes. His hands gripped her hips firmly. "Little miss snooty, has been a baaaaaaad girl."

"Oh? Was that an interest I sense?" She challenged. "You have always had a thing for the bad ones if I remember correctly."

"Shit," he shook his head, "Yer one ta talk."

Another giggle erupted from her before she knelt beside the body most likely annoying Beej when he was forced to release her body. Her expression grew thoughtful while she lifted the strands of blonde hair away from the bronzed and overly-tanned dead face.

"It's funny. I always thought that I was against violence. I mean, look at all the times I stopped you from juicing her."

Beej watched while she trailed her hands across the dead girl's face.

"Don't tell me you are feeling sorry for the little skank."

"No," she spoke gently and removed her hand. "I don't. I think I like her better this way."

He cackled, "Yeah, for once I don't have to listen to her talk. 'Like, as if, I'm totally going to miss being a Mondo Bitch.' "

Lydia rolled her eyes and stood up. "I'm gonna clean up. You could always join me."

Scoffing, Beetlejuice's body shuddered in horror. "To hell with that. You go. I'm gonna see what kinda damage I can do to make Claire Bitch-ster look like a suicide."

With a shrug, Lydia left him to it and turned her thoughts to cleaning off the sticky sensation in and on her body.

—

There were perks to being the second in command to the towns most popular girl. The way people would move out of your way so you could pass, the lack of suspicion when you walked into areas reserved for VIP's and even the Tab. Monica loved the Tab.

She could shop and not have to worry about paying for anything since it would go on Claire Brewster's account. It was simply that Claire never checked her purchases, nor did her parents for that matter.

Monica purchased a couple of things in Claire's size and a few in her own. After all, who would care? The Brewsters had so much money that it didn't really matter what she purchased as long as it wasn't a boat or something equally ridiculous.

For Christ's sake, the damn family had forked over a near mil for those ugly sculptures that the late Mrs. Deetz had created. Mrs. Brewster even had them coated in weatherproofed liquid latex to preserve the monstrosities and then displayed them around the gardens.

The worst of it all was the spiky grotesque cluster fuck they put in front of the mansion. Like, really? That thing belonged in a furnace.

Monica tried her best to avoid looking at it when she arrived at the Brewster Mansion to visit Claire. Only this time she couldn't avoid it.

Carefully approaching the horrific shape, her jaw fell agape. Her mind did not want to process what she saw because it wasn't, like, fucking possible…

Yet there she was, on top of the sharp points of the sculpture. Claire's blood-drained body skewered with two spikes through her torso and one extra jabbed straight through the side of her neck nearly decapitating the beautiful heiress.

A slow drip of coagulated blood oozed down the slanted edges of the design as Monica dropped the bags from her latest shopping spree and screamed.

Taking Claire's body down was a nightmare. When they arrived at the scene, Bertha couldn't take the sight of it and promptly puked up her breakfast. Allen, on the other hand, walked closer to the distorted figure of the dead girl. Had he been anyone other than himself, his stomach would have ached and turned when he saw the raw, exposed flesh of her neck. Instead, he eyed the scene with a careful eye, knowing full well that the body will be scrutinized with a fine-tooth comb by the little medical examiner.

Prudence was told to prepare the morgue while the forensic team extracted the corpse, preferably as intact as possible.

They didn't even wait for the Brewster's to return home from their trip to begin the process of investigation, though the word was sent to the older couple of their daughter's accident.

From what the distraught girl who discovered the scene had told the officials, Claire was no stranger to drugs; an overdose would be a less gruesome scene. She didn't have suicidal tendencies as far as anyone knew, and the dead girl was in between relationships.

Accidental. That was what he overheard. That and no other option fit this disaster.

Allen didn't like it. Something was wrong about this entire scene, and it had very little to do with the logistics of physical proximity from the mansion roof to the sculpture.

Once the body was taken to the morgue for further investigation, Bertha and Allen decided that they needed to recoup and perhaps call it a day. Though mostly it was for Bertha's sake. Allen's didn't think it would be right to let her suffer on her own. It felt like the right thing to do. Something a caring and supportive friend would go out of their way for, should their comrade in arms need assistance.

While Bertha shook, drinking her coffee and sobbing between sips, he awkwardly patted her back.

"Thanks," She muttered, knowing full well he was putting on a front. "You don't have to do that if it makes you uncomfortable. I'll be fine."

She was not blind to his apathy. Training at the academy and in her studies back at Miss Shannon's had prepared her to identify personalities. Bertha had a thing for people and what made them tick. It's also why she felt like a master in the art of matchmaking. Too bad it never worked for her benefit.

Allen didn't believe her statement of being "fine" for a moment, but he was grateful to take his hand off her shoulder.

"I'm gonna make a call." He spoke cautiously as he stood up. "I'll be right back."

Bertha sniffled and nodded. "Yeah, it's just …. Nevermind. The whole thing is a mess."

Nodding, Allen continued to glance back at his partner as he approached the waitress behind the dinner counter. She pointed him in the direction of a payphone when he asked.

Another sniffle and Bertha wiped her eyes with her sleeve. There was no love lost between her and Claire Brewster. Like many in their year, she hated the girl, but this wasn't something she wished on her worst enemy, and Claire WAS her worst enemy.

This was some kind of sick, twisted joke. She wondered how Prudence was going to manage to do the autopsy on this case. Bertha couldn't even watch as the forensics team took down the body.

Rattled, shaken… use any word that you could think of that would set a person in a state of unease forever while giving that person nightmares. Any word at all, and that would have described how Bertha was feeling.

The new year was turning out to be just as horrible as the last.

With a tingling of the bell, the door to the diner opened. Looking up, Bertha saw Lydia, who was dressed in an unusual fur-lined cloak, enter and remove her hood.

If Bertha didn't know better, she would have thought Lydia could raise the dead with how happy she looked. The flush to her face seemed unnatural for someone grieving their parents.

"Lydia?" Bertha questioned.

"Oh! Bertha, I didn't see you there. Are… are you alright?" The cheery expression faltered and fell into concern.

"Uh… No. Not really," she admitted as Lydia made her way to the booth and sat down next to her. In an offer of comfort, Lydia gathered her arms around the downtrodden Officer.

"That bad?" Lydia asked. Her voice was off, but not exactly worried. Curious, perhaps? Excited? Possibly.

Bertha blinked away her tears and shook her head. "Worse."

Before any words of explanation could be made, Allen rejoined the two.

"Lydia? I'm surprised... I mean," He let out an uneasy chuckle. "It's good to see you."

A wry smile curled at Lydia's lips, "It's good to see you too."

Bertha's eyes darted between the two of them. No amount of distress or upset would ever disrupt her keen sense of intrigue. Her matchmaking senses tingled once again as she watched her partner's expression.

"So, what brings you out," he blanched at the implication of her reclusive nature, "… here?" He added quickly, mentally cursing himself.

Lydia laughed, a blush of her own began to rise as she waved a hand to deflect attention. "I'm just picking up an order I called in."

"Why not eat here with us?" Allen offered.

"What, and distract the Officers on duty?"

"Actually, Lydia." Bertha interrupted. "We had the morning shift, and this is technically downtime."

"I called the precinct to request that our shift end. You are not capable of continuing today." Allen gave Bertha a shrug. It was another thing a friend would do, at least he assumed.

Lydia noticed the bemused, turned surprised expression on her friend's face and gave a laugh. "I will have to take a rain check. Maybe we can all meet up when Prudence finishes with her shift at the morgue?"

The mood shifted back to the uneasy tension that Lydia had felt when she first came into the diner. She sensed it instantly and gave the two a quizzical expression. Bertha darted her gaze between her partner and best friend.

"S-She won't be able to come. There," she sighed and steadied herself. "There was another accident."

Lydia's expression went blank, bracing herself for what was to come. Allen zeroed in on her reaction, uncertain if the news would disturb her further in the wake of so much tragedy in her young life.

"Claire's dead." Bertha blurted out.

Stiff shoulders slumped into relaxation, and Lydia let out a breath. "Oh. For a second, I thought that something happened to Prudence. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

A ding of a cafe bell rang, and Lydia turned her attention to the counter, watching the waitress load the takeout boxes into a plastic bag.

Allen and Bertha were thrown off guard by Lydia's response.

"That's my order. I should get going before the snow kicks up. Did you hear that we are getting another storm?" She gave Bertha's back a quick rub and stood up.

"Lydia? You did hear what I just said right?" Bertha cried out. Her tone boarding on incredulous.

Slowly, Lydia turned to face them. She adjusted her cloak, smiling as one would to a kid who had the wrong answers to a test and just didn't understand why they got a bad grade.

"I heard. I can't say that I'm sorry for it." The ding rang again, and Lydia gave the waitress an apologetic nod. "I really gotta get going. Beej is waiting for me."

"He's still at your house?" Allen asked, thoroughly disapproving of the thought.

Lydia's wry smile returned when she took the bag of carryout trays from the waitress. "You didn't expect me to eat all of this by myself, did you?"

Neither he nor Bertha had a response to that, as they watched the strange and unusual woman leave the dinner.


	12. The Best Things in Life

Not long after leaving the diner, Lydia rounded a corner to slip into an alleyway. Glancing around, she assured herself that the coast was clear before she drew a door with her finger. Now hanging in mid-air was a portal that she had created with her own energy.

To her, it was more dramatic and more convenient than the incantation of those words she had known by heart. Ever since the self-imposed restrictions were lifted, Lydia had discovered her love for the power of BJ's juice that was now freely flowing through her. It had undoubtedly made traversing between the worlds exciting and yet, it was also empowering.

Stepping through the portal, it closed behind her the instant that she found herself within The Roadhouse. On the other side of the room, she spotted Beetlejuice, who was reclined on the couch with his legs crossed and reading a newspaper.

"Having fun?" He asked as he glanced up at her, an amused chuckle escaping him.

Lydia laughed. "Says the guy who likes to pop up in random mirrors."

Cackling, he folded the paper and tossed it aside. Lydia was barely able to set the takeout upon the coffee table before he had her in his arms. No longer concerned with keeping things PG, he made sure to feel her up thoroughly. With a laugh, she slid her hands over his shoulder as he roughly pulled her into a kiss. Entangling her fingers into his hair, she gently gripped and pulled on it until he groaned in approval.

With a loud, smacking sound, he broke the contact and chuckled while he licked his lips. His serpentine tongue dramatically swirled upon them to savor the flavor that she had left.

Her grin could not be erased from his display of affection, as a swell of emotions drove her on to place a kiss upon the tip of his nose.

"Keep it up, Babes. I got no problem taking you right here."

Tugging at her hips, he pulled her to his own. The sensation of his need pressed up against her nearly instigated a vocalization of her approval, but a tapping sound of the many feet that were coming down the stairs gave Lydia pause.

"Maybe next time." She toyed, thrusting her hips against his and triggering him to groan out loudly in frustration. Unwillingly he let her go just as Ginger came into the room all "ta t-ta" and tapping away. The spider's happiness seemed to bubble over with each successful combo.

Her smile widened when she came to a halt in front of the two.

"Oh! Lydia! You will never believe this, but I got an audition!" Ginger squealed, not noticing Beetlejuice turning away to hide any evidence of his body's response to Lydia.

"That's great Ginger. I hope that you get the job." Dabbing her lips, Lydia attempted to remove any trace of her smudged lipstick.

"Gig, honey. That's what we in show business call it." Ginger tapped to prove her point, demonstrating a perfect pirouette. "Thing is, the director said something about Spiders having too many legs. Can you imagine?"

Settling upon the sofa, Lydia propped up her head in her hands while leaning forward with interest.

"You weren't always a spider. Why don't you just... shift?"

"What are you talking about, Doll? Of course, I've always been a spider. I was born a spider."

Confusion spread through Lydia like a wildfire. Glancing in Beej's direction, he only offered a shrug.

"Tell ya what, Ging. Take a hike and let me and Lyds have a little alone time if you get my drift, and we'll come to watch ya fail at the audition."

"You're such an asshole, Beetlejuice!" Squeaking in surprise at her words, she turned to Lydia. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Don't mind me. I didn't mean to be so uncouth, but sometimes he just boils my blood."

Blood…

At the word, Lydia perked up.

"Don't worry about it. I'm used to his dirty mouth-"

"Damn right, you are," he growled and leered in her direction. "I still got a lot more for ya to get used too once this Eight-Legged Freak vamooses."

"Beetlejuice!" Both women cried out, completely incredulous at his response.

Looking between the two, then again, and finally once more, Ginger connected the dots.

"Oh my god!" She drawled out with a hint of a blush gracing her already pink cheeks. "I - I will l-leave you two alone."

"Ginger!" Lydia called out, but it was too late. The spider had vacated the room without even leaving a trace of webbing. "Oh, you are an ass." She said to her lover.

To that, he only sniggered.

* * *

The off-season in a town like Peaceful Pines ordinarily left the police department short-handed, and the entire police force could fit in one room. Even then, it would still have space for the whole fire department and its volunteers.

Shaking his head, the Chief looked around at his small ragtag bunch. In his opinion, the majority of his force was green; they were young, impetuous, and yet full of enthusiasm. In all of his years, he had never known a group to appear so uncertain when funneling into the briefing room.

Still, he didn't blame them; after all, photos of dead bodies never boded well.

Which also led to another fact about Peaceful Pines; never in all of its years had the town experienced two murders within two months.

"Alright, now, we have a problem, and it's not looking good. We are dealing with someone who knows how to cover their tracks. Two bodies; both placed in separate scenes to look like accidents, and both, prominent female members of the community."

Many faces of the officer's betrayed their emotions, as they exhibited disgust from the photos of the crime scenes that were now appearing on the projection screen.

The only officers who didn't flinch were the two that had been on both crimes scenes and were also partnered together. Officer Dichter's determined expression and Officer Brown's sympathetic resolve stood out from the group, and it offered the Chief hope for the unusual duo.

"At 1743, on the evening of her husband's funeral, the body of Mrs. Delia Deetz was found. Her husband, Mr. Charles Deetz, had died four days prior from proven natural causes due to complications of a cardiac arrest and had been interned in the Peaceful Pines cemetery. Their daughter, Lydia Deetz, who according to witnesses, left the funeral early.

"The body of Delia Deetz was located approximately three yards from her vehicle in a small ravine on Brinton Hill Road and was initially assumed to be a vehicular incident due to the weather. The scene of the accident was discovered and reported by Officers Brown and Officer Dichter. Later, the scene was recorded by Officer Mordelle."

By then, the three were the subject of attention from the others in attendance. Pursing her lips, Bertha ignored them and refocused her attention on the Chief.

"Medical Examiner Prudence Miller discovered a wound on the victim's neck that was dissimilar to all of the other identifiable injuries. The other lacerations were proven to have happened in postmortem, adding further proof that our victim was murdered. Additionally, in that particular neck wound, remnants of vegetation had been discovered."

It was at that time that the majority of the cops shared confused glances.

Raising her hand, Officer Mordelle interjected. "Vegetation? The report describes it as 'residue from tomatoes and squash.'"

The Chief nodded, and a murmur lifted from the tables.

"According to Ms. Lydia Deetz, Delia Deetz had a rendezvous with Doctor Maaya and did not expect Mrs. Deetz to be home that evening. Doctor Maaya had been her husband's attendant during the time of his illness. In Doctor Maaya's statement, he said that Mrs. Deetz did not arrive at their appointed destination. Furthermore, Doctor Maaya added that he had not heard from Mrs. Deetz since the funeral. Ms. Deetz also purported that at the estimated time of death of Delia Deetz, she was in the company of her family's friend and handyman, Mr. B.J. Beetleman. Mr. Beetleman correlated that her story was truthful."

"B.J. Beetleman?" Officer Mordelle smirked. "That's really his name?"

While the collective in the room snickered, Officer Bertha Brown stood up and slammed her file upon the table. She had apparently read ahead.

"This is ridiculous! You can't put Mr. Beetleman on the suspect list."

Reaching for her arm, her partner tugged her back into her seat.

"You can't eliminate anyone Bertha. We can prove it wrong later if we need to."

"If that's the case, then why is Lydia's name in there too?" As her eyes narrowed at him, his grew wide. He had never suspected…

"That would be my addition." During the commotion, a rounded man had walked through the door then stood tall and intimidating for all to see. His voice was commanding, and immediately, it had silenced the din within the room.

"Detective Bath. Glad you could join us." The chief spoke up, introducing the new arrival. "The detective here is joining us from 1st Precinct in Soho's Metropolitan Police Department in New York. For the past seventeen years, he has been on the cold case pertaining to the murder of the late wife of Charles Deetz, Mrs. Evelyn White Deetz."

Silenced by this new revelation, Bertha sat down. Lydia had never mentioned her mother. The only reason that she and Prudence knew that Delia was Charles's second wife was due to the sudden personality change that Delia underwent after Charles's death.

It was almost as if a veil had been lifted off of the woman, and she had returned to her senses. No one quite knew what to expect from Delia anymore, nor did anyone know how to comfort the grieving widow.

"As you can see, the possibilities are growing. Now, I have no intention of placing young Ms. Deetz under suspicion. I do, however, believe that she may be a central figure. After all, much of this tragedy had been the surrounding people within her company; Three parental figures, and a childhood schoolmate who was well known to antagonize the girl. It is my bet, and as Officer Dichter has suggested in his reports, that someone may be committing these atrocities for some dubious gains."

Turning her attention to her partner, Bertha was appalled that Allen would have made such a suggestion.

"Officer Brown, Officer Dichter." The police chief spoke with authority. "I am assigning you to work with Detective Bath. While both of you have ties that some might consider a conflict of interest, your work speaks for itself. Brown, you have the suspect's and had victim's trust. Dichter, you have never betrayed an ounce of discomfort on any case that you've been assigned to in this region. As for the rest of you; patrol. Keep your eyes open for any unusual activity and report to either myself or Detective Bath if you find any evidence that could lead to a plausible suspect for the murders of Delia Deetz and Claire Brewster."

"Chief?" After a gentle knock, a small voice came from the doorway. "I-I just finished the examination on… on Claire."

She and Bertha locked eyes for a second before Prudence felt the Manila folder be removed from her hands.

Furrowing his brow, he then looked directly at the medical examiner. "That's certainly more damage than we had originally thought."

"Yes, sir. Those wounds were indeed from a sharp object, not in line with the sculpture. Just like All-, I mean, Officer Dichter had suggested."

The Chief pinched his nose. "Alright. Go on, everyone out. This briefing is over."

* * *

Stretching her hands up over her head, Lydia flinched when her fingers and toes hit the edges of Beetlejuice's coffin. While laughing, she rolled onto her side.

Meanwhile, Beetlejuice was sound asleep, snoring loudly with his body covered by the raggedy-patched blanket. Rubbing her toes against his ankle, he snorted in surprise and popped open his eyes.

Caressing his chest, she trailed her fingers in a pattern that only she knew, before sliding it down and under the blanket. Right before she touched the one thing that he had most desperately wanted her to grab, she retracted and wrapped her arm around his waist. As she snuggled onto his chest, he groaned at her teasing.

Nope, he wasn't about to have any of that. Gripping her leg, he held it while spreading her thighs and then comfortably rolled into the newfound valley.

"Don't think that you can get away that easily." His voice was low and menacing. "You and I have all of eternity to fuck around, but that doesn't mean I'll take it easy on ya."

Wrapping her other leg around his hip, Lydia pulled him forward.

"It was a freak of fancy in my friend…to be enamored of the night for her own sake; and into this bizarrerie, as into all his others, I quietly fell; giving myself up to his wild whims with a perfect abandon."

Beej paused, watching her expression as she recited the words that spoke of more than just this moment. His demonic grin slipped from its carnal intent to feast upon the formerly virgin flesh, only to visually worship the beauty on his bed.

His bed.

Not a whore house. Not a stranger's room. No, he had a woman in his bed, willing and greedy for his touch. The way that she arched herself to graze her tender flesh against his cold hard body was proof enough of her own desires for him.

The vision of Lydia's tangled short hair, nude body, and her branded, covered neck in his coffin, raised his affection for her to higher levels than ever before. She was beautiful, and if he was ever asked, he couldn't deny that he was in love with his best friend.

"Aw Babes." Leaning the entire length of his body against hers, taking her lips with his own, and with more care, than he had ever had in their previous excursions, he entered her body. In the days since they became lovers, he had lost count of how many times that he had made her scream, how many times that she had left a lingering mark on his ghostly form, or how many times they had writhed together in a desperate attempt to be closer.

He could do this forever, and he planned on keeping her mind and warm, soft body busy for as long as she had left to live. Then, when she crossed over, he would really let go and show her exactly what a ghost could do.

Forcing him off, Lydia pushed him onto his back so she could take him for a ride while giving him the best view. His tongue stretched out to flick one of her nipples, causing her to giggle before he slapped the cheek on her rump.

"Beej!" She squealed with a laugh.

"That's nothing, Lyds! I'll warm ya up for some serious play time later." He chuckled at the blush that rose up within her body. "Hey, hey, don't stop. Come on, Babes. Ride. Show me what ya got."

For a moment, she froze, then bit her lower lip as the blush on her face grew deeper with every encouraging word that had slipped out of his mouth.

"Beetlejuice."

"Awww no! Come on, come on, come on. Just…. bounce a little."

"Beetlejuice!"

"Oooh, you are so lucky those words won't do shit anymore. Fuck, Lyds, just ride already. I need ya."

As she laughed, she wiggled upon him, and it was then that she slowly concluded that, in this position, she held all power over him. No matter how much she blushed, Lydia could not quell the power trip that grew within her.

"Uh…. Beetlejuice." She said for the third time, as her body clenched around him, and his throaty growl rose to near problematic volumes.

Falling over on to his body, Lydia couldn't stop herself from giggling like a teenager.

"Gods, I don't think I will ever get used to this." Kissing his jaw, she moved to give his ear a nibble. "Beetlejuice...I love you."

Tensing up his body, he craned his neck to look into the sweet expression of adoration that was upon her face. With a gentle touch to her cheek, he let his smile grow. Then in a slow kiss, he too figured that it was best to finally tell her.

"Ya know what, Babes?" He pecked her nose and then pressed his forehead to hers. "I think I love ya too."

"Think?"

"Yeah, that's pretty stupid. You know me well. Forget that I said that," but before Lydia's face could truly fall, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tighter hug. "I love ya, Lyds."

Just as she was about to gush over with gooey, gory happiness, his finger pressed against her lips. "I just got one thing I gotta ask before you get all mushy on me."

Pushing against him, Lydia sat up and tried to cover herself with the blanket. Whatever she thought that he was going to say didn't compare to the words that came next.

"Lydia Deetz, I'm going out on a limb here, and I'm about to make myself look like an outta character fool from some crazy fangirls story but… would ya marry me?"

Stunned into silence, Lydia felt the urge to back away slowly and get into her clothes. Before she could raise her foot over the edge of the coffin, Beej pulled out a dismembered finger from a rotting corpse that wore a magnificent ancient ring.

Horrified yet fascinated, her hand came up to cover her mouth. Thoroughly enthralled and disgusted, Lydia began to shake her head until she nodded.

"Make up your mind already; you're giving me cold feet."

Ice blocks appeared on Beej's feet and touched her, triggering her to scream, before jumping out of bed and laughing uncontrollably.

"Leave it to you to ask me to marry you while I'm naked."

"So what? Want me to wait and try again?"

With a smile, Lydia picked up her discarded poncho and draped it over her body. Before returning to the bed, she leaned over while claiming the corpse's finger and kissed a confused Beetlejuice.

"Give me some time, and I'll consider it." With the putrefied digit in her hand, she walked out of his room.

Staring at his bedroom door, his face fell into an expression of bemused disappointment.

"Well, shit. Didn't see that coming."


	13. Pebble In My Shoe

"The past is a pebble in my shoe." - Edgar Allan Poe

As if anyone would have expected anything less, Claire's funeral was a spectacle. The only mar on the entire event was due to a lack of two people; the parents of the deceased, who only came back from their vacation to set affairs in order and grieve in the privacy of their own home.

Much to the horror of everyone in town, the sculpture and also crime scene, was sold to an auction house and ironically made an extraordinarily profitable return.

Lydia could have cared less, while Beej, on the other hand, muttered a time or two about how they wouldn't be able to take credit or make a profit off of the deaths.

Her ghost was becoming unhinged over the tiniest details, and she knew that the main reason for his behavior had to do with her inability to answer his proposal.

Such a simple thing to say yes to the man you love, but it's not so simple when all things considered, their deal was already a binding contract. Under the current terms, Lydia held the power, but their roles would dramatically change with a marriage. He would grow far more powerful, and if things turned for the worst, she would never be able to end their contract. Still, it wasn't like she planned to 'end' anything.

After a month of debate, she realized that the entire situation was convoluted. She kept the ring (and finger) on her bedroom vanity so that each morning she could take the time to think about his offer. She compared the elaborate ring to the simple one she wore, the one that BJ gave to her on the day she thought was their first meeting. With the ring that she currently wore, she already felt tied to him in a 'slow and steady' way, while this other ring, it was so much more. She could feel the weight on it, and along with that physical aspect, she could also feel the weight of a new contract.

Every time she imagined being married to Beetlejuice, she felt a warmth that nothing could explain, fill her from within. She had read enough of the handbook to know that she couldn't produce a living child with him, not that she had any desire to. She had also understood that at her life's end, it would not terminate the marriage, as it would have with the contract.

If there were any downsides to it, she wasn't aware of them, and at this point, the only one that had come to her mind would be... well… memory.

Thinking back on the odd behavior of Ginger and later Jacques, Lydia finally asked Beej the question that had been bothering her since the day that Ginger had helped her clean off the blood.

"They didn't kill enough." Beej shrugged off the question while they snuggled in Lydia's bed.

They were insatiable with each other, with both craving the touch that had been previously denied to them over the years.

"Ginger said she killed her husbands."

"Ah, yes, three husbands, one boyfriend, and a girl that she got a little too experimental with. At the time, well, let's just say that she met her end by her lady lover's husband. He didn't make it to this side with only one kill. That's just not enough"

Lydia curled into him, her head resting on his shoulder while one of her hands twirled a strand of his blonde hair.

"So, if I'm at three…"

"You need to get more blood on yer hands to remember everything, Babes. You certainly qualify, you are one twisted kid." Beetlejuice's admiration was evident with his smile alone.

"From the beginning, with our deal, you already qualify for basic low-level memory retention, and now that you gave me the watch…"

"I gave you the remainder of my life span." Sitting up, the fabric of her blanket fell off of her body, as she beheld the light snow-covered hills through her bedroom window. "However long that time may be."

"Don't, Lyds. You have time. We can get your count up, cause Brewster won't be the last." Joining her, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her shoulder. "I got a lot ta teach ya."

Humming in both affirmation and pleasure, Lydia turned to kiss his cheek gently and rose up from the bed.

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."

Standing naked in front of the window, the light curved against her body as she reached for the drapes to close them.

"You quote that Poe too much, Lyds. Starting to think I have a rival." He chuckled.

"Because "it's showtime" is such a gem?" Lydia rolled her eyes, though she couldn't keep her humor hidden from him.

"You know you love it. Now get over here so I can make ya scream again." He ordered, crawling out from under the blanket and across the mattress.

Feeling mischievous, Lydia had another idea as she ran out of her room and down the hall.

That day, they had an enjoyable romp, desecrating room after room until her body couldn't manage much more. In an attempt to keep him at bay, she pretended to banish him to the Neitherworld.

She would never forget his stunned face when those three words had left her mouth. Later, however, she would wish that she could forget the disappointment on his face when she had refused to answer his proposal for the second time.

"Babes!" he spoke, suddenly startling her out of her reverie. Her knife had almost slipped from her hand when he appeared in front of her when she was preparing lunch.

"Beetlejuice." Her tone warned him that she was not pleased.

"You are gonna go bat-shit when you see this!" He yelled, slapping down a paper in front of her.

Glancing at it, she couldn't see the big deal. After all, it only appeared to be a boring piece of paperwork that could have been a report written by a local college kid.

"Woohoo, it's a page." She said unenthusiastically as she opened a jar of mayo for her sandwich.

"It's not just a paper. It's a police report! Snagged it from that pretty-boy cop that Burps been hanging with." With a smug grin on his face, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

Taking the paper more seriously, her sandwich was forgotten as Lydia took the page to read it.

"- the distrust that had built up between Mr. Beetleman and Mrs. Deetz had grown to the extent that the deceased had refused any interaction between Mr. Beetleman and the daughter. Similarly, the animosity between Lydia Deetz and Claire Brewster could have given cause for Mr. Beetleman to step in and - Beej! They think you did it?!" She held a hand over her heart.

"Yeah so? They can't prove it. It'll be like little old Lizzie all over again. No evidence, so by default, no guilt."

Smug couldn't begin to describe how perfect he felt as he polished his nails against his coat.

"It's not funny. If they think that you did this, then what is stopping them from saying that it was me? What then? I can't exactly kill in prison."

Slamming the paper back down on the counter, Lydia squeezed her eyes closed as she took in the complications that this would present.

"Hey, whoa. It's all gonna blow over. No one's gonna pin ya, except me, now let's just get this taken care of and we can get on with our plan."

By his frazzled reaction, Lydia could only surmise that pacifying her wasn't something that Beetlejuice had been prepared to do.

"Beej, we don't have a plan. I am not going to kill people who don't deserve it. Both mother and Claire had wanted to take my home."

"What about dear old 'Mommy'?" He rolled his eyes.

"She was going to hurt my father!" She huffed as she jammed her knife into the package of sandwich meat.

From somewhere deep down inside, an old scar ripped open, and with it, her anger became fresh as she remembered that, never again would her father be there to read to her and call her 'Pumpkin.'

As a tear freed and slipped down her cheek, the affirmation that this was reality had been nearly too much for her.

"Father was my everything, Beej." She spoke softly. "He understood me like no one else. Even… even.."

"Even though the memory of what had happened never truly left him." At a loss for what he could do, Beetlejuice slumped against the counter.

At that moment, she grasped the truth of his words. Her father had been doomed to be an anxious wreck, and his work had nothing to do with it.

"I tried, Lyds. Even though he had a lot of juice in his system, nothing was gonna take away the memory of your adorable face covered in all that gore."

She sobbed and laughed at the same time. "So, Delia was right! I was the one who shattered his nerves after all."

"Fuck that! Don't give her credit. You loved Chuckster, and that woman could never compete with that. Fucking juice messed her up good, and if your dad hadn't kicked the bucket, then she would have died a ditz…. well, you know, more of a ditz."

"No," Lydia wiped her eyes and moved to hug him. "No. Things happened this way for a reason."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he smiled, content to have her back in his arms. Catching his eye, the knife was still impaled in the lunch meat, and he wondered just what else this little she-demon was capable of. With a quirk of his lips, he chuckled and squeezed her close to him.

"Beej?"

"Yeah, Lyds?"

"How exactly did you get into Allen's report?"

—-

Jane Butterfield was at a loss. The Deetz's property was once again off the table, and now the Brewster's were not interested in selling off their daughter's inherited estates.

The fact that no one in this town was of any use to her was enough to drive her into a dry spell. The books didn't look so good, and if things continued this way, she would be forced to close her office in Peaceful Pines. If that happened, she would be back to being only a one-location business.

It disturbed her to know that she would never realize her dreams of leaving Winter River permanently. She would end up like Adam and Barbara Maitland and die in the nowhere town they all grew up in.

Little Jane would never become a successful city woman. The thought of her daughter experiencing the same fate began to worry her.

Frustrated, Jane dropped her pen on her desk and held her head in her hands. No, she needed to think. There had to be someone who would be willing to sell.

"Damnit Charles, you just couldn't hold on, could you?"

Pressing her palm against her temples, she then covered her mouth as she thought about her options. Could she give someone else a push? Could she do it again… Another sabotage?

It was possible if she could replicate the Maitland incident, then perhaps the Deetz's estates would go to another family member who had no interest in equity.

The Brewster's were a lost cause in selling, but they were her best patrons. She had always been successful when they were involved since money was never an obstacle when they liked a property.

Then there was that cop who had that property in Eagle Hill. A single man with no family had no reason to need that much land.

Thinking on it, with the two accidents in town, now may not be the best time to plot too many incidences. One death every so often could be easily explained, but two accidents after the funeral of someone so valued by the community…

Well, it just didn't look good.

This was where she was, Jane Butterfield, Realtor, and Savvy businesswoman; stuck in a town of stubborn idiots.

Something had to change. Something needed to change.

—-

Detective Bath was a practical person. He knew that people both decent and criminal were subject to both positive and negative traits. He also knew that the most stable, upstanding citizens, could commit atrocities that the average mind would never be capable of conceiving.

He was also aware that a small-town crime like this was never as easy as a simple identification lineup. People in a community like this stuck together, and old ties, trusts, and relationships would be impossible to break.

That was why he wanted Brown and Dichter on his investigation team. They knew the town and surrounding municipalities just as well as any officer in the precinct. However, only Brown knew Mr. Beetleman, Brewster, and the Deetzs collectively. She also knew the medical examiner since their school days. Conflict of interest? Possibly, but truthfully, her knowledge and incredible ability to recognize patterned behavior was an asset.

Dichter, well, the Detective had never seen such a clean-cut record. The kid never seemed to be phased by what he saw on the force, and if anyone could reign in the over exuberance of Officer Brown, it would be Dichter.

Officer Brown's record was riddled with commentary from past assigned partners. The majority had found her to be… a tad clingy. Surprisingly, even with the unfortunate circumstances of the previous year for both of them, the two officers were able to work as a team regardless of Brown's mental and physical recovery period.

As a detective and a practical person, Detective Bath had applied this knowledge and set up his perfect team.

Though, as she looked over the schematic of potential suspects, the look on Bertha Brown's face didn't bode well.

"Uh, Detective Bath? I don't think I feel comfortable with putting Lydia on the suspect side of this board." The notion clearly repulsed her. "I also don't think that Mr. Beetleman…"

"Facts, Officer Brown, not speculations. If you do not want to see them on this board, then I suggest that you find cause to eliminate them." The Detective flipped through a few more photos before selecting two more to add to the board. The first one that was pinned up was a portrait.

"Jane Butterfield: Local realtor and person of interest. Colleague to Charles Deetz, acquainted with all three Deetz women and the Brewster family. Jane is listed here as one who was seen in the company of all three victims on the last day of each of their lives. Now that's assuming that there is a possibility of Charles Deetz being a victim."

Officer Dichter tapped his lips and contemplated the possibilities.

"Jane has been known to be aggressive in her sales tactics." He offered. "She was never one to shy away from selling off the properties of those recently deceased. She has also been seen frequently harassing some locals to sell their loved one's homes."

Bertha scoffed. "She's been after your place since… uh… sorry." When Allen closed his eyes, she clamped her mouth shut.

The Detective smirked at how well the officers were able to read each other. He would have to compliment the Chief for his decision to place the two most observant cops in this district together.

Adding the final photo to the board, the Detective stepped away so the room could now see. The photo, taken in a cemetery full of funeral attendees, was particularly thought-provoking because it featured every person of interest.

"But that's... How? Why?" Bertha stuttered.

"On Tuesday, March 27, 1984, the funeral of Mrs. Evelyn Deetz was attended by her husband and daughter. Along with a friend of the family, Ms. Cordelia ' Delia' Hart. This photo was taken not too long before Delia and Charles started their relationship, and both were reported to have undergone a personality change in drastic measures.

'On March 20th, 1984, Mrs. Evelyn Deetz was murdered with no suspects found. According to the reports, Charles Deetz was discovered unconscious in the hallway outside of the murder scene while Lydia Deetz, age 6, was asleep in her bed. Following that, Charles Deetz had what most would call a nervous breakdown and was diagnosed with high levels of anxiety."

"How was Evelyn Deetz murdered?" Allen asked, only to have a photo of the crime scene shoved into his face by Detective Bath.

"Multiple stab wounds. Close proximity. The perpetrator would have been covered in blood, but no trace had been found outside of the room, not even a trail. Murder weapons have yet to be discovered."

The room was silent as the two officers examined the photo. Nothing looked out of order, other than from the puddle of blood, lay the body of a thin woman who looked too much like Lydia for either Officer to be comfortable with.

"Also, in attendance at the funeral was Maxi Dean, his wife Sarah, Otho Fenlock, and Jane Butterfield. All of whom were questioned on Evelyn's death, and only Butterfield remains a person of interest."

"So, what about the Brewster family?" Nodding towards the photo, Allen referenced the young and seemingly bored Claire, who stood between two daunting figures.

Judging by the grin on the Detective's face, Allen had apparently asked the right question, as the Detective retrieved yet another photo.

"As you can see, the accusation of Charles Deetz having an affair was nothing short of a projection of a guilty conscious by Evelyn herself."

Bertha squeaked and covered her mouth before stumbling back into a chair while Allen, on the other hand, stared wide-eyed at the image of a nude Evelyn Deetz in a compromising position with Marvin Brewster.

"And… and Mr. Beetleman?" Bertha asked, pointing to the photo of the funeral posted on the board.

There, behind the tombstones and a few rows back, stood the image of B.J. Beetleman, smoking in a trench coat with a cabby style hat.

"Before the news of your case came to my precinct, I had no idea who the man in the photo could possibly have been. He didn't match any of our archives, and no one had remembered seeing him. I have a hunch that Mr. Beetleman is somehow connected to Evelyn Deetz's murder."

Officer Brown bore a pained expression which contrasted drastically against the determined and focused expression of her partner.

Yes, indeed, these two were going to help him solve this eighteen-year-old cold case after all. If they were lucky, they would finally be able to get justice.


	14. Faith in Fools

"I have great faith in fools - self-confidence my friends will call it." - Edgar Allen Poe

"So, here's what I got." Beetlejuice exuberantly announced after leaping onto Lydia's coffee table.

Leaning forward on the sofa, Lydia rested an elbow on her knee, feeling absolutely bored out of her mind from her ghost's crazy plots and plans.

"Beej! I'm tired. Can't this wait?" She drawled out while dropping her head into her hand.

"Sleep is for the dead Babes. Right now, we got a case to deface — a crime spleen to clean. An issue to eschew. A suspicion to-"

"Enough!" Standing up, Lydia's outburst silenced Beetlejuice's rant, and he nearly melted with disappointment at the lack of her amusement.

Slouching into himself with a huff, he floated after Lydia, who was now walking up the stairs.

Only once they were inside of her bedroom did he let his feet settle upon the floor.

"Talk to me, Lyds. What's eatin' at ya?" He didn't bother with the pun. Instead, giving her his best contrite smile, he jammed his hands into his pocket so that he wouldn't make the wrong move.

Sighing, Lydia rested her body against the carved wooden pillar of her canopy bed.

"All you've been doing is talking about going on one rampage after another. Mass slaughter this, assassination that." Turning to him, her now sunken eyes were tinged with a much deeper shade of purple and reflected her exhaustion. "I'm not ready to jump back into this! On top of it, after every scheme that you make up, you keep pushing me to answer your proposal and it's starting to drive me crazy."

"I still have a license-"

"To drive people crazy. Yes, I know. Look, the point that I'm trying to make is this: 'Let me handle this.' Trust in me. Let me take the next step, and for god's sake, no more sneaking around the police station. I still can't believe that you did that."

Beetlejuice harrumphed and crossed his arms.

"Don't know what you're complaining about. No one could see me, and it was only one measly piece of paper. Officer Dickhead will never even know that it's gone."

"Dichter."

"Gazuntite."

"No, you Bozo. That's Allen's last name. Look, it's one thing to mess with Bertha and Prudence since they are our close friends but leave Allen out of this. From what I heard, the poor guy has been through enough this year."

Turning away, defeated and lethargic, Lydia stripped out of her shirt and unfastened her bra. In one of her dresser drawers, she began to dig around for her pajamas.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure." Looking away, he grumbled and folded into himself more. "He certainly looked pretty torn up when he was locking lips with you on New Year's Eve."

Dropping her shirt, she whipped around to face him, triggering Beetlejuice to flinch when he saw the look in her eye. It had been so many years since he had seen it. The last time that he did, she had sprained her ankle and was using a crutch to chase after him.

"You spied on me?" She said flatly. "After all this time, why didn't you let me know that you were there? Do you have any idea how guilty I have felt?!"

As her voice rose, she advanced on him, but he was having trouble looking her in the eye. Her heavy breathing was making her chest rise and fall in such a distracting way.

"I-I—I didn't wanna bring it up, okay?!" He snapped back and tore his gaze away from her. It was confusing enough with his growing sentiments, to know how to handle a fight with her anymore. No, he didn't want to be angry, and he didn't understand how to treat someone that he loved after he had betrayed them. In fact, he barely understood how to feel guilty or let alone proper remorse.

"Why not?" She asked with a fire in her. "You could have asked me about it. We could have talked about it. If you felt this way about me, you could have, I don't know, interrupted us beforehand. How was I supposed to know that you even cared if I had found someone else? For ages, I've been throwing myself at you, and that whole time, you never showed me an ounce of interest! And yet, when I was with another man… you... you completely chicken out and poof away?"

"Watch it, Lyds." His words carried an edge as his eyes narrowed on her.

"No! Oh, Mr. Powerful Ghost with the Most, do you think that just because you have so much power that I am going to be afraid of you? Do you think that now that I know you have no problem with taking a life that I'm going to fear for my own? You need me, Beetlejuice! You're not going to kill me. I know that because you are sick and tired of being trapped in a world with friends who can't even remember who they really are!"

Stepping closer to her, Beetlejuice's nerves were fraying as his mortal tore away at him with every angry word.

"You can't scare me! You never could, but I sure as hell know that I can scare you." Lydia advanced on him in equal measure.

"You think you have it all figured out, dontcha, Little Lydsy." He growled as he appeared to enlarge himself, raising his arms, and seized her by the bare shoulders.

"No, you seem to think you have it all. You get a naïve girl to make a contract, raise her to trust in you unconditionally, then when she's old enough, make her fall in love with you, and finally, that's when you swoop in and try to change the deal that was already in place."

As Beetlejuice's hands squeezed her arms, his nails dug into her flesh, but she refused to flinch. Instead, she took a deep breath and allowed the pain to fuel her anger for the damned spirit.

"You listen to me, Lydia Deetz. The deal stands. You get a free pass to the Neitherworld, and I get to increase my haunt zone in yours. You get a chunk of my power to do what you want, but you owe me blood in return. Time has come, babe! Three bodies in and you have a lot more to go."

"I enjoyed it." Through her gritted teeth, she spoke with a venomous tone and glared at him.

"Gotta be more specific there." Scrunching his nose, he slightly jerked his head to the side and eyed her down.

"I enjoyed kissing him." She snapped and watched as the fire within him immediately began to dim. Lessening his grip, Beetlejuice's posture drooped until he returned to a more familiar size.

"I enjoyed it," she repeated. "Until I realized that it wasn't what I wanted."

By this point, he had already let her go, and his hands dropped to his sides.

"Beej." Taking a deep breath, she stood in front of him, but his eyes were cast downward. "It was only a New Year's kiss. Sure, it was nice, but it wasn't you."

Caution and distrust played across his face as he looked up.

"Well?" Lydia waited, but he didn't respond; not even when she crossed her arms and emphasized her bare breasts. "You used to bounce back from our fights a lot faster than this…"

Before she could say another word, Beetlejuice snatched her arms again and pulled her close.

"Let's get this straight. It's you and me, Lyds, against the world."

"Did you honestly think I was going to leave you?" Lydia giggled at the dramatic shift in his energy.

"You might have to if this next plan is gonna work." Beetlejuice chuckled, but Lydia could only roll her eyes.

—-

Bertha was not feeling too confident when she, Prudence and Allen drove through the dark covered bridge. Passing into the blinding snow-covered scenery, their blinking eyes adjusted, rewarding them with a perfect view of the large house upon the hill. It reminded her of an opening scene out of some horror movie that she once saw many years ago. Driving up the snowy path, gravel angrily crunched under the Cruiser's heavy wheels until they parked next to the place where the old family's car used to be.

Give or take a few of Delia's more recent interior renovations; the Deetz home looked exactly the same as it had been when they were kids. Although, there had been one change that neither Bertha nor Prudence could directly sense.

Since Charles's passing, the confusion surrounding the house was now gone, and a new aura took its place. Just subtle enough to slip through the cracks of consciousness, was a menacing threat that left the slightest trace of a tingle down one's back.

As the group exited the car, a sharp screech shattered the serene surroundings. In unison, Allen and Bertha jumped into action, unholstering their guns as they ran towards the front door and then positioned themselves on either side of it. Looking to each other, they shared an unspoken conversation and nodded as Bertha's hand hovered over the door handle before they counted to three. On three, they threw it open, rushed inside and were prepared for the worst.

With guns aimed directly into the living room, Bertha and Allen were met with an unexpected sight. Staring at them in shock was Lydia, dressed in a white lace blouse that was covered in some sort of purple liquid. At her feet, was an empty glass and a very contrite-looking Beetlejuice who was seemingly trying to pacify his angry friend.

Jumping to his feet, Beetlejuice dove in front of Lydia to create a barrier from their deadly aim. Instead of the noble gesture like he had intended, he tripped over the glass that was on the floor, rolled a couple of times before he came to a stop in front of the officers' feet. From behind them, Prudence appeared in the doorway, and her eyes grew wide at the scene that was before her.

"Mr. Beetleman?" Prudence questioned, trying to understand the crazy display, but she was only met with a cheesy but guilty grin.

"Hehe." He slowly pushed himself up on his heels. "This is not what it looks like."

Lowering his gun and holstering it, Allen rolled his eyes while Bertha took a step forward to offer her hand to Beetlejuice.

"We heard Lydia scream," Bertha explained, but her concerned expression never left her. However, she had calmed considerably now that she knew there was no hint of danger.

Lydia, on the other hand, began to fume and stomped off towards the stairs. Taking it upon herself, Prudence followed. Bertha had a moment of hesitation, snickered and without any explanation, tailed her two friends.

This left Allen standing alone in the doorway… with Beetlejuice.

Dusting himself off and making sure to pick up that damned glass that he had tripped over, Beetlejuice chuckled and held out his empty hand to the cop.

"Hi, how ya doin'?"

Sitting on Lydia's bed, Bertha and Prudence took in the changes that had reflected the tastes of the woman that they always knew to be one creepy but cool kid. Not surprising, Lydia's blankets were no longer the light purple and pink. The girls remembered how much Lydia had lamented the day that her favorite spiderweb duvet had been destroyed in the laundry. It was worse than when she discovered the same accident had befallen her dark curtains.

When that excuse was shared, not one of them had actually believed Lydia's mother. Instead, they had shrugged and made comments about how much Delia had cared enough to replace them.

As they watched their friend strip off her white blouse with a furious motion, they wanted nothing more than to help.

"Lydia, is … is everything okay?" Bertha asked, picking up the shirt when it was thrown to the ground.

"Peachy," Lydia replied as she dug through her drawers, pulling out a long-sleeved sweater, and then crossed the room to head to the bathroom.

Taking the shirt from Bertha, Prudence examined the damage.

"This is going to be a difficult stain to remove."

After that simple comment, no words were exchanged between the two, as silence passed between them. Memories of the past came easily in this setting, as they reminisced on all of the adventures that they had with the coolest girl in school — the same girl who never got the positive encouragement that she deserved. The teachers didn't understand her, which bothered Prudence, but aside from herself, she had always thought that Lydia was the smartest person in their class. It was no secret that Claire hated them, and it was no secret that she had her graduation title rigged to be on top. After all, her parents had donated a lot of money to the school.

Bertha, on the other hand, dwelled more upon their experiences as they were growing women. She pondered on the way that Lydia almost seemed immune to the guys in the magazines and with how little interest she held in dating. Calling it strange would have been an understatement, but they were used to her quirks. Like, for example, how it was odd that she was somehow able to keep someone as unruly as Mr. Beetleman and his niece Betty in control. She recalled how Mr. Deetz talked about the crazy older man who spent time with Lydia's grandma, and it was almost as if Lydia knew the entire Beetleman family.

She then tried to deduce what the tie between the Deetz's and the Beetlemans could be. Unfortunately, she had no clue. Why Mr. Beetleman was at Evelyn Deetz's funeral was a mystery. No one knew of him until he started making an appearance as the Deetz's handyman. In regards to his suspected origin of the weird man, Detective Bath had given them nothing to work with.

Then, there was that crazy day when Mrs. Deetz freaked out on Mr. Beetleman and indefinitely forbade him from visiting the house. For many days afterward, Lydia was depressed, and nothing could cheer her up. Unfortunately, it only got worse when her father had his first heart attack.

As far as Bertha could recall, the last time she saw Lydia in the diner, was the first time that she had seen her looking that happy in ages. Lydia's whole vibe that day… was weird.

"Do you think that something is going on between Lydia and Mr. Beetleman?" Bertha asked, cutting through the silence.

To Prudence, the thought was preposterous, but once those words left Bertha's mouth, she forced the components and possibilities to align into such a ridiculous outcome. No, such a notion was just out of the question but…

"I am not ready to say with a hundred percent certainty that anything is different between them, but the probability seems high that something did indeed transpire just before we arrived. There is also the fact that Mr. Beetleman is spending an awful lot of time around here lately."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Sitting on the edge of Lydia's bed, Bertha grumbled.

"Don't worry about it too much. I'm c-certain it's all just a misunderstanding. Even if he's really weird and gross, he's always been a lot of fun." Prudence sat next to her, cradling her head in her hands. "Bertha… I don't like tricking them."

"We are not tricking anyone. We just need to get her to talk to us. You remember what Detective Bath said: If we don't like seeing them on the suspect list, then we need to prove that they are innocent. That's all we are doing and nothing more." Bertha's hushed voice was shaky as she spoke with urgency, driving the point home.

"If you say so." Prudence sighed out before she suddenly jumped off of the bed and began shuddering.

"What? Is something wrong?" Bertha asked as she cocked her head at her short friend.

Wincing, Prudence chose to sit on the chair by Lydia's desk.

"If they are in some sort of …. Ugh… relationship, then I don't think I wanna be sitting on her bed." Sticking out her tongue, she just couldn't stomach the thought.

Like lightning, Bertha practically flew off the mattress, flailing her arms before she stood in the middle of the room, shivering head to toe.

To keep from laughing, Prudence slapped a hand over her mouth, but that didn't stop a giggle from someone else to fill the room.

"I'm pretty sure that I didn't leave out any bugs to crawl around. Are you alright?" Lydia asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

Prudence internally examined her, her hair didn't look wet, but it was obvious that Lydia must have jumped into the shower because her skin looked more pink than usual.

"Yeeeaaaah," Bertha drawled out. "Got the creeps thinking about something…. It's nothing important."

"You should be used to creepy things by now." Lydia laughed. Her spirits seem to have perked up a little after that quick rinse, causing the other two to share a look.

"It's been a while." Prudence chanced a laugh. "We wanted to ask if you would have lunch with us. I tried calling you, but we didn't get an answer. I think your answering machine is down."

Startled by this revelation, Lydia turned to her friends.

"I didn't hear the phone ring at all, but then again, we only just got back."

"From where, Narnia?" Bertha laughed, her grin growing into a knowing smirk. "Pretty sure you were just too busy hanging out."

"No. I mean… "Lydia blushed.

"Please, you don't need to explain." Prudence winced and extinguished any invading thoughts.

Throwing a menacing glare to Prudence, she emphasized the importance of sleuthing out details and not embarrassing blushes.

"Forget I said anything. Hey, Allen is downstairs and waiting for us if you wanna come, but I don't know how he'd feel about…"

"Don't worry. After that soda incident, I think Beej deserves to sit in his doghouse for a while." Lydia grumbled while raising her voice just slightly near the end.

If Prudence wasn't mistaken, she could have sworn that she heard a muffled cursing come from just outside of the bedroom, but when they opened the door to leave, no one was there.


	15. Observe Attentivly

"To observe attentively is to remember distinctly." - Edgar Allan Poe

Lydia was pissed. He knew he was screwed the moment that damn cup materialized after that misplaced comment. On top of it, it wasn't even his quip!

She had juiced herself, quite literally.

In fact, the more that he thought about it, the funnier the whole situation became. His Lyds was finally getting a taste of her own potential. Now, if only she would agree to marry him.

Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be all romance and rabbit fucking anytime soon because she was definitely still upset with him.

Picking up the glass, he greeted the loser that was standing in the entryway. When the man gripped his hand, Beej could have sworn that the guy recoiled at his touch. _Hehe, still got it! _He thought to himself.

"So, what brings the triple P down to this neck of the woods?" Beej cackled at his own joke.

"'Triple P'?" Allen asked with no trace of humor or inflection. What a bore.

Beej didn't get why Lyds liked this dipstick.

"Peaceful Pines Police, but I coulda said Quadra P and included Prune."

Allen did not look amused, as he crossed his arms, eyeing the ghost as if he was a puzzle to solve. _Good luck with that Bub_.

"Mr. Beetleman-"

"Call me BJ."

"BJ.," the cop said the name with a subtle hint of disapproval. "We came to check up on Lydia. You seem to be spending more time here than necessary. Why is that?"

"Oh, well, that's easy. See, Lyds is my best bud. The Motley to my Crew. The Bonny to my Clyde, my partner in-" Beej froze and chuckled sheepishly. "Well, you get the picture. Actually, Lyds and I were hanging out. Just catching up on gossip. Ya know, that sorta thing."

"Were you aware that her childhood classmate passed away?"

"You mean, Brewster? Hell yeah, I knew. That's 'like, an incredible bummer,' know what I mean?"

The frown on Allen's face deepened while Beetlejuice dug his metaphoric hole deeper and deeper.

"Look, yeah. It's a tragedy but look at it this way. She wasn't exactly all that well-liked in this town. People only put up with her cuz Daddsie had all that moola. Ya can't expect me to feel too bad for Brewster. She's been a pain to Lyds, Burp, and Prune their whole lives."

Nodding in agreement, Allen conceded that Beetlejuice had a point there. Still, the officer didn't look too friendly.

"How long have you known Lydia and her family?" The cop questioned.

"Ah well, that's hard ta say. I think Lyds was… uh, around 11 or 12 when I got the job fixin' a leak in this joint."

"Where were you living at that time?"

Taking a moment to look at the man, Beetlejuice grinned as he read Allen's posture and the interrogating attitude that came with it.

"Little here and little there, what's it to ya?" He asked, not bothering to shield his distrust for the cop.

Allen, not to be distracted from his goal, pushed forward by changing his angle.

"Did you know that Mrs. Deetz wasn't Lydia's biological mother?"

Beetlejuice smirked, turning away with a shrug, and sauntered into the living room. If this cop wanted to play cat and mouse, then Beej would give it to him. From above them, the sound of Lyds' stomping feet let him know that she was aiming to clean up, which gave him some time to play. This also gave him free rein to plug some holes into the investigation while setting them off onto a different course.

"Well yeah, Lyds told me when she showed me a photo of Chuck and Mrs. D's wedding. Cute couple, but it doesn't take a genius to see that Lydsy looks nuthin' like those two."

"Lydsy?" Allen sneered at the nickname. It just didn't suit her.

"Inside joke. Listen, she's in good hands here. Been around that kid a long time an' guarding her like she's the Golden Fleece. I would do anything to keep her safe. So, if you're worried she's gonna get hurt-"

"Did you know that Lydia's biological mother had an affair with Marvin Brewster?" Allen didn't even let him continue. When Beetlejuice went mute, a smug satisfaction slowly grew on Allen's face.

BJ's jaw dropped for a moment, and he began to sputter incoherently. Thoughts swirled within his mind, while some parts connected like a puzzle that should have never ever been. The cop was lying. He just had to be.

"Also, were you aware that you had appeared in the photo taken at Evelyn Deetz's funeral?" Allen's laconic and sobering words were just one more nail into the coffin.

"Hehe, hehe, how about that? Small world." Beetlejuice sheepishly shrugged.

When the shower ending caught his ears, BJ floundered to find the right words, but none would come.

"I'll be right back. I… uh… gotta go visit the John." He blurted out as soon as he heard the bathroom door close, and Lydia's bedroom door open.

And with that, he took off.

—

Allen smirked at the results of his interrogation tactics. This gave him the perfect opportunity to finally investigate the house without Lydia or that… man watching him.

Not that he expected to find much here, after all, he couldn't possibly imagine that Lydia could have had anything to do with the murders… but like Bath said, he needed proof.

Poking around, he looked in the kitchen while scanning for anything that looked amiss. The clutter in the sink didn't sit well with him, but that was his personal preference and not related to the case. However, he was pacified to see that all of the knives were accounted for in the kitchen block.

Carrying on, he scrutinized for any sign, both physically and, well, using his other skills that he'd rather not share with anyone.

In that regard, he sensed a high level of energy and activity in certain spots that both made sense but didn't. Mentally noting it, he thought nothing more on it and returned to the living room.

Investigating further, he inspected the carpeting and furniture, but all that he had discovered was a candy wrapper under the couch, and that one of its pillows needed some serious fluffing.

He couldn't understand why little things like that had always been so irksome for him, but he needed to leave it be, and so he turned away. It was then that the letter opener on the coffee table caught his eye. Looking around the room, he found not a trace of mail.

Picking it up, he returned it to its proper place in the entryway where all of the mail sat… unopened.

Allen quickly looked back into the living room for a trace of any opened mail.

Nothing. Not even a sliver of paper. How odd. Was it just moved in absentmindedness, or perhaps it was used for something else?

Lifting the sharp, silver letter opener once again, he examined it closer; the shape, the size, the depth. What could have been its purpose when it was set over there? There was no damage on it that would imply that it was used for prying. No, it was pristine, clean, and… then from behind him, he heard voices and footsteps descending the stairs.

Quickly resheathing it, he whipped around to face the trio who were making their descent.

"Ah, are you all ready to go?" He asked, nervously. When he saw Lydia smiling to him, he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets for lack of anything better to do. Her entire aura was now lighter than it had been in a long while, in fact, so was the energy within the house.

"I'm all yours," Lydia said with a flirtatious smile, as she retrieved her coat off the rack while maintaining eye contact with him. While Allen blushed at her direct nature, Bertha and Prudence exchanged concerned glances.

As they made their exit, no one had even bothered to ask where Mr. Beetleman had gone.

—

Jacques LaLean had always stuck to his routine. It was all that he knew. Fitness was his raison d'etre, the one constant in his whole existence, never mind, that he had no cardiovascular system to work on, nor did he have muscles to tone.

No, all that Jacques had were his bones. They were sturdy, strong, and as clean as any that could have been boiled down to such perfection. Speaking of, even though it was rare, he had a horrific reoccurring nightmare that consisted of nothing but boiling flesh. Each time, it would awaken him with such a start that he needed to go for a run just to get it out of his mind.

This morning was one of those rare times.

As he returned from his afternoon pre-meal jog, Jacques came across a rather irate looking Beetlejuice who was for some reason sitting in Poopsie's doghouse.

"What are vous doing there, Be-a-tlejuice?" He asked, jogging in place by the Monster Across the Street's fence.

"Sitting in the doghouse, what's it look like?" The ghost grumbled.

"Did something happen with Lydia?"

"What do you think?" He growled, pulling himself forward.

Jumping up with a yelp, Poopsie had motivated Beetlejuice with his teeth to remove himself from his abode.

"Ya mangy mutt! I oughtta turn you into a handbag!" He hollered, shaking his fist at the dog as it retreated back into the safety of its shelter.

"I see. Perhaps some time apart would do you both some good." Jacques shrugged his boney shoulders before he continued to jog at a brisk pace back to the roadhouse.

Before he could arrive, Beetlejuice transported himself to the door and stretched out his foot, just in time for the skeleton to trip, fall, and clatter apart into a jumbled-up pile of bones.

"Ah ha ha ha, have a nice trip?" BJ taunted before entering the roadhouse and slammed the door behind him.


	16. Truth is Superficial

"In other words, I believed, and still do believe, that truth, is frequently of its own essence, superficial, and that, in many cases, the depth lies more in the abysses where we seek her, than in the actual situations wherein she may be found." - Edgar Allan Poe

Ch 16: Truth is Superficial

The ride in the cruiser was not physically or mentally uncomfortable by any means, nor was Lydia concerned about riding with two police officers that were possibly hunting for her. In fact, she found that it was quite the opposite.

The feeling of empowerment swelled as she sat there while joking with her two childhood friends and the gentle cop who had an interest in her. It was inexplicable, but she now felt as if she was immune to the potential consequences of any mortal law. There was a separation between her and them. Plus, with the simple fact that they didn't believe that she was responsible for the murders, and they were trying to pin it on a ghost, was both thrilling and yet, oddly, aggravating.

She wasn't ashamed of what she had done. There was a sense of pride in how well she and Beetlejuice had worked together to dispose of the bodies, and it grew as they traveled down the streets of Peaceful Pines.

Pulling up to the old Wholesome Burger joint where she had once held her first real job, she nostalgically smiled while looking up to the neon sign. It prompted her to think of her own creation, Franken-burger, which was still running smoothly in the Neitherworld.

The group entered the establishment; three women filled with memories of the times they spent enjoying their complimentary meals. Not even the modern touch could take away the real soul of the burger joint. Luckily the current owner continued the tradition of remembering their past. Lydia gazing around fondly at the portraits of former employees reminded her that the original owner of this restaurant had a residence in the Neitherworld.

She paused and stared into that warm elderly face framed in a much more elegant than those surrounding the founder. He seemed so kindly staring back at her through those still lifeless eyes and yet, Lydia remembered how the Neitherworld was not just a place for the dead. It was so much more and being so, reminded her that this gentlemanly grandfather figure had to have committed intentional murder multiple times.

Suddenly the history of Peaceful Pines became more interesting.

"Gee Lydia, it's been a while since we've been back here. Look at how much has changed." Bertha noted, impressed by the updates and cracked a wide smile. "Do you think they have my usual?"

"Are you kidding? The recipe will never change, so of course, it'll still be here." Lydia laughed.

At this moment, she felt incredibly free and light. Everything just felt so right!

As they approached the register, the current teen who was working bubbled up in excitement at the prospect of customers. Enthusiastically greeting them, she took their orders while taking extra glances at Lydia. When they were done, the kid hurried back to the kitchen to prep the order for the cook.

"You must have had a lot of fun working here," Allen commented as he looked at the wall of photos featuring the past employees. His eyes softened when they had settled on Lydia's old portrait and had a ghost of a smile.

"It was interesting, to say the least. Funny enough, Beej tried to open a burger joint for me back when I thought I had lost this job. He's not the best at strategy or business." Lydia chuckled. "Remember the Spooky Boutique?"

The girls all began to laugh, but Allen was left trying to understand the context.

"Oh my gawd, that was so crazy how he was able to get that spot in the mall. It's a real bummer that it didn't take off. You've always had such a unique style." Bertha gushed.

After finding a booth, Bertha and Prudence deliberately stuck to the edge, essentially trapping Allen and Lydia in the benches that were across from each other.

When the food was brought to them, Bertha passed out their orders as Prudence checked their drinks and handed them out.

"So, how long have you girls known Mr. Beetleman?" Allen asked, leaning back in his seat while trying for nonchalant as he picked at his fries.

"We met Lydia in 7th grade." Prudence handed out the little cups of condiments to everyone as she spoke. "We already knew who she was, but we weren't brave enough to talk to her till then. You already knew Mr. Beetleman, right?"

"Yeah! He's been my best friend since I was eleven and you two met him when we were twelve," Lydia replied before taking a bite of her burger. "Mmm…still good, but I should have asked for extra pickles."

"You know, now that I think about it, you never did tell us how you two met," Bertha commented before stuffing an onion ring into her mouth. Chewing, she turned her attention to Allen and nearly spat out her food. "Oh god, Allen, are you putting mayo on your fries?!"

He didn't reply with words; instead, he lifted the white-covered, crispy, potatoey-goodness, and smirked before stuffing it into his mouth. With a satisfied expression, he side-eyed his partner as he quietly chewed and swallowed.

"Ewwww," both Bertha and Prudence stuck out their tongues while cringing.

"Oh, come on, you guys. It's just mayo; besides, Betty has eaten things in front of you that were much worse." Lydia sighed, then laughed when both girls flinched at any given memory of Betty eating.

"Lydia, how _did_ you actually meet the Beetlemans?" Allen inquired as he offered her some of his mayo, to which she partook of without question.

"It's kind of hard to remember exactly." Lydia sipped on her soda while she thought back on it. "I was eleven when we became friends, but I had seen him before. Being a kid and all, it's not like I can remember everything, but he was always nice to me. He understood me when my dad started to really crack under pressure and then when Mother dwelled on how to make me normal."

"You don't seem all that abnormal." Allen was confused about her statement and watched her carefully.

"I'm surprised Bertha hasn't told you all about how "strange and unusual" I am." Lydia gave her friend a sly look, only to have Bertha evade it by digging happily into her burger.

"No, just the basics, like the crazy Halloween parties, The Brides of Funkenstein, and I think there was mention of something about being wilderness women…"

Lydia nearly choked on her soda. "Well, ah… that was interesting, but most of that was with Betty."

"May I ask, who is Betty?" Allen queried and leaned forward.

"She's a friend," Lydia said simply.

Sensing the evasion, he switched tactics and focused on the last of his food. Grabbing another fry, he looked up to her with only his eyes.

"So, your parents didn't seem to mind that you were friends with the handyman? He must have been a good friend to them too."

Lydia smiled gently while sipping on her soda straw.

"Daddy wasn't too fond of him, but he knew that I was safe. Mother actually liked him more, but that… didn't last."

"Did something happen?" He asked gently while the other two exchanged a concerned look.

Leaning on the table, Lydia let out a melancholy breath and rested her head in her hand.

"When I was about seventeen, I told them that I was going to prom with Betty, which I was, but something happened, and she didn't make it. Beej happened to be there and witnessed Claire being Claire, but he stood up for me. After that, he took me out for one last dance before offering to drive me home."

As they remembered that evening, Bertha and Prudence covered their mouths. They had both left early that evening; Prudence had wanted to get home so she could study for a class and Bertha, like hundreds of teens before, went the traditional route of taking her date out for the prom-night christening.

"To make sure that I made it home safely, Beej drove me back and to thank him, and I kissed him on the cheek. That was when dad had his first heart attack. Even though at the time it was only a minor one, I was so afraid for him. Unfortunately, that's when Delia went overboard, and suddenly, it was all curfews and check-ins. On top of it, just to make sure that I wasn't sneaking off with him, she enlisted people from all over the town to keep an eye on me."

"So that's how the rumors started!" Bertha yelled. "I knew it! I just knew that he never did anything."

Lydia solemnly nodded and said nothing. A heavy silence filled the booth while the girls stared into their laps, absorbing what she had shared with them. Going out of his comfort zone, Allen leaned forward and embraced her hand with his. Flicking up her dark, sad eyes, she met his grey-blue ones, and then between them, shared an intense gaze as he gently gripped her fingers.

Accepting his comforting gesture, she gave a gentle squeeze in return while pouring all of her gratitude back to him in a wave.

"I - I'm gonna clear these trays. Can you give me a hand Pru?" Getting up, Bertha and Prudence cleared the table, taking their wrappers and empty soda cups to the garbage bins, while leaving Lydia and Allen alone.

Glancing back at the two, Bertha was overwhelmed with concern at the thought of either of them possibly getting hurt by this investigation.

Prudence, on the other hand, was all focus as she pulled out a ziplock from her coat and placed Lydia's straw inside.

"Bertha, do you honestly think that Lydia is dating Mr. Beetleman?" Prudence asked as she watched the tension and the attraction build between their friend and the dusty-blonde cop.

"Pfft. Dating? Look at the way that Lydia blushes when we bring up their ''friendship'? Somethings going on, I can feel it, but right now my biggest concern is sitting at that table. Allen isn't the kind of guy who will show emotion for anyone. So, if Lydia and Mr. Beetleman are an item, it's gonna break him."

"I'm sure Allen can handle it." Prudence shook her head before going back to analyze the scene before them.

"No, Pru, you don't get it." Bertha grabbed her by the shoulders and leaned in close with a serious look in her eyes. In a hushed but stern tone, she continued. "I have never, ever, met a person that was not interested in anyone until I met Allen. Look, he may seem all friendly on the surface, but that's clearly his work persona for the public. He's honestly a great guy, but think about it, when have you seen him interact with anyone on his own unless he has to? When we have those group nights to celebrate, he is never interested in going. He never comes to any functions unless it's mandatory. In fact, one time, he told me that he has never had friends in school or has ever dated. I asked him who his childhood crushes were, and you know what he said? He didn't have one. Who's like that?! To be honest, I don't think he even likes people in general! Yet, when I first introduced him to Lydia, something in him was different. When he is around her, he started acting like, I don't know, a regular guy. Not like a guy-guy, but he actually started to show interest in her."

"This… is… big." Bertha shook the poor red-head with each word before releasing her.

Prudence adjusted herself, stuffed the ziplock bag back in her jacket, and looked Bertha in the eye. She studied Bertha's posture and saw how desperately she needed to gossip. After all, this was Bertha, and she always had a way to find out the juiciest news, the most scandalous of secrets, and of course, get a good read on people.

"Well, whatever is going on, I think it might be good for them to spend some alone time together." Prudence ducked her head and blushed when Bertha turned a shocked expression on her. With a nod, Bertha agreed.

—

Lydia was unsure about this whole seduction thing that Beetlejuice had planned. In the past, when she had tried to use her womanly charms on him, it had ended in total failure. So, what in the world made him believe that this plan could work on a trained police officer?

Those thoughts were weighing on her as she had lunch with her friends. Duplicitous behavior was new to her. While she was typically open about her interests and core ideals, Beetlejuice, on the other hand, was the one who had all of the slick moves and cons in his skill set.

True, over time, she did learn a thing or two. In fact, when Beetlejuice didn't know that it was her in disguise, she was able to fool and even blackmail her ghost. The trick that she used to pull it off was knowing what kind of woman would send him into a tizzy.

This new plan that he presented was very different from that.

Allen was just as well trained as Bertha, and that woman could read between the lines in every situation. She was good at detecting deflection, interest, and evasion. On the outside, her partner was difficult to read, but Lydia could tell that he was a nice and gentle guy.

It just didn't seem fair to lead him on, only so they could turn the investigation into a cold case.

When she was dropped off at home, she already knew that the whole plan was a bad idea. Later that night, when she undressed, she grew more uncomfortable thinking about it as she prepared for a long, warm bath to chase away the chill.

The changing of the seasons held a beauty, but the cold could wear on one's soul until they too, felt like they lived in eternal winter.

"Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore... it's the wind and nothing more."

Lydia sighed. She missed her dad terribly and his exact usage of these quotations. My, how the times have changed as she grew, and now, knowing that she was the reason for his frayed nerves, depressed Lydia to almost an unforgivable level.

She had been the one who broke him.

Thinking back to Beetlejuice, she knew that he would be hopping mad at her for sending him away. Though, it was his fault for even suggesting that she start putting herself out there as the bait. Then there was that whole 'juice' incident…

How could he have not warned her that this was going to be a possibility? So far, her own powers had only been used to transport herself places and fetch him. Never had she been able to use her so-called juice for any reason outside of those parameters.

Then, of course, there was that sarcastic offer that she made to buy drinks to get Allen to loosen up… ugh. Why did she ever let Beej talk her into this?

Raising her leg from the water, she marveled at the change in her perception of the world. The change in her friend, her view on people, and her moral compass were all so different.

What's more, what she had once thought to be an unforgivable crime back when she was young, was now nothing but a cathartic release of hostility. It was an aggression that she didn't know that she had as an adult, nor did she ever remember having it when she was a young child.

The first murder… the one she had long forgotten, had felt nothing like her recent kills. She had carefully planned that one. She knew that her mom would pick her up. She knew that the guise of a child was the perfect solution for getting the upper hand.

Most of all, she knew how to take a life and send them away so they couldn't hurt anyone else.

Lydia had always been a smart child. By the age of six, she could already read and oh how she loved horror movies with a passion. Call it abnormal, but in retrospect, Lydia was never normal. No, she was cunning, and she was a killer.

The twitch on her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she thought about the way that it felt to cut into the flesh. How smooth it was and how the resistance would give way once the skin was broken. Then, there was the delightful feeling of blood on her hands. It was a sticky warmth that dried like a mud mask that one could find in a spa.

Perhaps that was why Erzsébet Bathory fancied the blood of virgins to keep her young? What ingenuity in the ages of old!

Laughing at the thought, Lydia pondered the infamy of her childhood idols. One day she would be among them, and perhaps she too would be remembered long after the centuries had passed.


	17. Dark Unfathom'd Tide

"**A dark unfathom'd tide **

**Of interminable pride — **

**A mystery, and a dream, **

**Should my early life seem." by Edgar Allan Poe**

Ch 17: **dark unfathom'd tide **

Maybe it was guilt..., perhaps apprehension..., or even fear... Whatever the reason, Prudence's stomach was not cooperating. Regardless, she pressed forward.

Regardless of all that, Prudence pressed forward.

Her samples;

Specimen 1: The saliva from Lydia's straw that she used in the restaurant and the hair that she had collected from Lydia's brush.

Specimen 2: Claire Brewster's tissue, hair, and bodily fluids that were collected postmortem.

Multiple times, she had double and even triple checked her tests using each of the samples for cross-comparison, and her concern only grew as she studied it further.

Finally, after hours of work and denial, she admitted that the results were indeed correct.

All alone in the darkened and sterile room, with nothing for light but the dimly illuminated bulbs on the surrounding equipment, Prudence cried.

—-

Impossible! There was no way that this could happen. It was just NOT at all possible.

"Klote, klote, klote…" The moment he realized something was very wrong, Allen continually chanted this mantra under his breath.

Repeatedly, he opened, tore apart, reorganized, closed, and locked up his file cabinet. From top to bottom, he had searched his car, the entire office, and the briefing rooms where they held their meetings with Bath. Still, the one piece of paper that presented his suspicions, naming Mr. B.J. Beetleman as the principal suspect, was missing.

"You have no idea how stoked I am." Bertha gushed, deaf to Allen's muttered curses, as she packed up her portion of the desk that she and Allen shared. "You just don't get these sorts of spaces. I mean, really, did you ever imagine getting one of the biggies?"

Taking a deep breath, Allen attempted to center himself and block out the world around him.

Bertha, being so lost to her giddiness of getting her own desk, didn't even register the concern that began to transform his normally stoic expression into one of panic.

"Mordelle was the last one to get her own desk, and man did I get jealous! Did I ever tell you that I was partnered with her for a while? Unfortunately, things didn't work out." Bertha continued to ramble.

Ducking down, Allen inspected beneath the desk just in case the paper had slipped under during the move, but there was nothing. Standing up, he slapped his hands onto the desktop and shook his head.

"Ya know, it wasn't for lack of trying either. In the end, it was just that we weren't compatible for whatever reason, but this, what we have, is perfect. It's so crazy that it took so long for them to assign me to the best partner ever. You and me, Allen, all the way." Bertha continued to rattle on.

Deep inside, Allen understood that Bertha was once again in one of her harmless babbling moods. On any other day, he would have been able to tune her out with a smile and carry on, while letting her have her fun. After all, it typically didn't last long before she would be back into her hyper observation mode.

At the moment, tuning her out was nearing an unbearable level, as his slitted gray-blue eyes darted over to her. He had never misplaced his paperwork before, and it only stood to reason that it had to have been taken. Yet, that too was impossible, as he had always locked away his files in his desk drawers when he didn't need them, and no one, not even Bertha, had a key. He never allowed his paperwork out of his sight unless he knew that he had safely locked it away. He knew for a fact that it was in this folder and he had double-checked it before he had last filed it away in that drawer. Something wasn't right. Impossible things don't just happen.

Lifting the case-file again, he fingered through each individual page, but still, it was not where it was supposed to have been. Everything else was there except for that one piece of paperwork. This shouldn't be. No. This should not be.

The air in the room began to feel thinner, as a rumbling began to spread under his skin with an uncomfortableness that began to eat away at him, while his ragged breath barely held this superficial form together. As she began to speak again, a deep thundering noise filled his ears, while his dangerous-looking eyes shot to her through a divided part in his ash-blonde hair that hung down in front of his face.

"Say, when we get our new desks, I think it would be great if-"

"Kut!" Allen erupted. "Bertha STOP your godverdomme, inane prattling and BE quiet!" With a snap, he threw the file into the drawer and slammed it shut with such a strength that the filing cabinet nearly toppled over.

Dropping into his chair, he seized the armrests and clutched the ends of it tight, while staring off into the nothingness. With a frustrated growl, he grasped the sides of his head and bent over to lean his elbows upon his knees.

Stunned, Bertha turned and carefully analyzed his posture and the dark expression on his face. Setting down her box upon the table, she knelt beside him and quietly observed as he held onto his head with a tight grip.

As he took sharp and shallow breaths, he muttered to himself, but nothing he said made any sense to her. It was almost as if he were having some conversation with something unknown.

Craning her head over the desk, she scanned the room and spotted the only other two officers in the office. With hushed voices between them, both were intently watching Allen and her with a curious fascination. The moment Bertha locked eyes with them, they became uneasy with her direct gaze and rapidly left the room, excusing themselves.

Quickly returning her attention to her partner, she lifted her hand to touch his shoulder. She wanted to help him. She wanted to help ease this unknown burden that was weighing him down. Before her hand could touch his shoulder, his hand shot up like lightning, grabbing hers even though his eyes were still closed tight. Gritting his teeth, he threw her hand back to her.

"Don't!" He snapped between labored breaths. "Do NOT touch me."

Although he didn't hurt her, she cradled her hand as she fumbled to find the right words to help him.

"O-okay. It's just…" she stopped speaking when a new batch of officers entered into the space, indicating the start of the next shift.

"Car! Now!" She ordered in a hushed voice.

Flashing her a dangerous glare, the intensity of his faded blue-jean colored eyes nearly made her fall back into submission. Vaulting up from his chair, he brusquely pushed past Bertha, and without looking back, he marched out of sight.

—

Filled with relief, Bertha set about picking up her remaining nick-nacks and then lifted up her cardboard box of belongings. Moving across the now noisy and bustling room, she set her things upon her much more substantial and newly assigned desk. It filled her with pride, looking at that sizeable wooden thing. She had come so far from when she had first started in this department. So many partners, so many disappointments, and all of the drama in-between. That was the norm for her until she was finally paired with Allen.

In the beginning, she had expected to have the same problems and receive the same treatment from him, but they never came. Instead, he listened to her, he respected her, he asked her opinion, held it with regard, and was incredibly supportive, and one could even say sympathetic during one of the most terrible times in her life. Yet, today was the first time there had ever been any sort of disruption between them.

Looking behind her, she stared at the old desk that they had shared. It was a bittersweet feeling that she had right now. There was a part of her that wanted to help Allen move his stuff, but she also knew better.

She realized that with his noticeable OCD tendencies, it had to have been torture sharing a desk with someone as unorganized as her. Still, she had always tried her best to do what she could to help, because more than anything, Bertha had wanted Allen to like and trust her as a friend as she did with him.

After spending all of this time with him, she had grown to recognize enough of his behaviors to comprehend that it may never be the kind of friendship that she had with the others. If anything, in that way, Allen was incredibly similar to Lydia, she had always been the most aloof among her friends.

That reminded her, perhaps she should give Lydia a ring right now. Hopefully, Lydia could help her better understand what more she could do.

—-

"No! Absolutely not!" Rushing over to block the front door, Beej held out his arms as a barrier, but Lydia just laughed.

"Come on, Beej. I'm just going to go see Bertha."

"You are not going anywhere near that police station while the heat is still on. Not only that, you don't have full control over your juice yet! Nuh-uh, I ain't risking it! You will be staying right here! I'm putting my foot down."

With his emphasis on the word foot, a large one had manifested in her path to prevent her from moving forward. Snapping her fingers, it vanished as she stepped over to him, and gently tugged on his tie until his nose touched hers.

"Nice try, but I'm going. Now, you can either sit here all alone or come with me." The tone of her voice dropped into a low, seductive rhythm, leaving him feeling dizzy and tingly all over.

As he struggled to speak, Lydia once again swiftly tugged on his tie while seamlessly moving, biting his lower lip before indulging into a slow but promising kiss.

Beetlejuice practically melted on the spot before Lydia let him go, only then did he splash to the floor and formed into a puddle.

"Beetlejuice." She laughed while walking past him as his eyes still followed her in his oozing manifestation.

"I promise that I won't do anything crazy. Besides, I'm only planning to meet up with her for a little bit before I go do some much-needed grocery shopping. Again, if you are so worried, you are certainly welcome to tag along."

Returning to his solid form, Beetlejuice crossed his arms and harrumphed.

"Fine go... but you better not blow it! 'Sides, I got some of my own snooping to do anyway."

"Beej." Just after she said his name, he vanished in a poof of smoke and random objects.

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head with a half-smile and a sigh. Opening the front door, she stepped out onto the porch just as the cab that she had called for, began to pull up the driveway.

—-

In all of the centuries of his continual, ghostly existence, he had never needed to be selfless. Just the thought of putting someone else's needs before his own had felt bizarre and unnatural. Yet now, he found that he was at odds with himself. This wasn't him, but it was. Although it was only internally, Beetlejuice begrudgingly admitted that he had found himself wanting to fulfill those desires of that unusual girl.

Not moments before he chose to leave, Lyds had him nearly begging for her to stay. There was no way in hell that he felt comfortable with letting her go into that lion's den without him.

On the other hand, with her going, it did allow him the perfect opportunity to do a bit more recon. After all, who could guess what else Burp, Prune, and that Dick-Turd had up their sleeves? For all that he knew, that little ragtag group might have switched focus already and possibly were preparing to pin it on Lydia. If there was going to be a trap, he wanted to be prepared and armed with as much information as possible.

He was just itching to throw some false leads into the mix, but as he pilfered through the desk that displayed Officer Dichter's name plaque, he was forced to restrain himself.

Bertha, he noticed, no longer shared the space, and it appeared that both officers were given their own individual desk. _Huh, wonder what prompted that? Maybe ol' Burp got to be too much for the wimp._ Well, in his opinion, that certainly made it easier for him to snoop since both of them were now situated in their own separate corners. In fact, they were located in the perfect angle for concealing his invisible tomfoolery from prying eyes.

Examining the new locks that were put on the desk drawers, Beetlejuice tsked at the futility of keeping him from its contents. With a flick of his juice, he unlocked them and began to nose around. As far as the paperwork went, everything looked the same as before with perfect organization, and it made it a breeze for him to navigate through.

Not even Lydia knew of anything pertaining to the time that he had served in the Processing Department. It didn't matter how virtuous or sinful one may have lived during their mortal lifetimes, that was just the consequence of suicide. For accidental or natural causes of death, you were permitted one hundred and twenty-five years in the above world's haunting parameters, but for those who had taken their own life… indentured servitude was their fate.

From there, things got dicey and were filled with a multitude of loopholes and clauses. That's not even mentioning the other things in one's afterlife in regards to mortal faith and the culmination of life choices for the deaths not related to suicide.

It's a fucking Labyrinth to navigate when and where one's spirit would manifest at the end of it all. For good folks like old Chuckster, the other side would be easy as a breeze, with no subjected hauntings and certainly no purgatory. After all, Beej checked up on the old man for Lydia's sake, and Charles Deetz was singin' with the angels.

While on the other hand, neither of her mothers would be so lucky. He chuckled darkly at the thought. No, selfish people like those two, had their own afterlife and he could only hope that they were happy tormenting each other for the rest of eternity.

Slouching back into Allen's chair, Beetlejuice was quite disappointed with the lack of interesting information that he could find. With nothing better to do, he observed the cops bumbling about the office while performing their day to day rigamarole. It was times like these that being invisible had their benefits.

Beetlejuice snapped up to attention as he spied what he could only assume to be a hooker being led into the room by two rookies. _Huh, who knew that Peaceful Pines was big enough for that market. Then again, there were some twisted folks out there, and he should know! _ He snickered. _Such audacity for a girl to wear that short of a skirt under that heavy jacket that she was taking off. All that he needed was a gentle outdoor breeze and… _

Quite abruptly, the door to the emergency exit burst open, setting off the alarm while a massive gust of wind tore into the room like a tornado. Within the chaos, the girl shivered as her skirt lifted and gave Beetlejuice a lovely view of her bare-naked ass.

"Ooooh yeah." He chuckled, leaning back as he crossed his arms behind his head while kicking up his boots upon the desk.

Between the bedlam of officers running around, papers flying every which way, and the red-faced rookies scrambling to cover up the whore; it was a good show.

That was until a tiny figure snuck into the room with a folder clutched to her chest.

Beej quickly adjusted himself, while ensuring that he was still invisible as he watched Prudence dodge the cacophony of cops and perps.

As she tentatively approached the desks, her gaze bounced between the two as if she was confused about what to do. In the end, she decided to approach Bertha's desk. Hesitating for just a moment, she snagged a pen, one of Bertha's post-it notes, and chewed on her lip for a while before scribbling out the message that she affixed to the folder.

And just like that, she scurried away through the dying pandemonium without being noticed by a single living soul.

Intrigued, Beej flew over to Bertha's desk and moved the makeshift paper-weight that was holding down the newly placed folder. The bright, neon pink post-it was not hard to miss, and Prudence's handwriting was positively perfect.

'Don't say anything out loud. Keep calm. -Pru'

"Well, if that ain't ominous." He muttered with a snort before opening it.

As his eyes met the first page, he scanned over its columns of numbers and words that he couldn't make sense of, and it began to bore him to tears. However, as he read on to the next page and the pages after that, his eyes grew wider and wider until he couldn't look at it anymore.

Slamming the folder closed, he took off without even bothering to return the paper holder to its proper place.

—-

When she met up with Bertha, Lydia was in good spirits as she let her friend unload fresh gossip and her worries about anything and everyone.

Particularly, the conversation kept being steered in the direction to talk about her partner.

It was apparent that not being able to confide in anyone about Allen weighed heavily on Bertha.

As Lydia watched with a gentle smile, Bertha paced back and forth on the pavement. Coming to a stop, Bertha looked around before joining Lydia to lean on the cruiser.

"Look, I really, truly like being partnered with Allen, and I don't want to risk him getting a suspension or a psych evaluation. He's such a great guy, and he doesn't deserve anything like that." Bertha said, as her brow lifted while she stared out to the parking lot with worried eyes.

"What do you mean? Why do you think they might suggest something like that? Did something happen?" Lydia gently grabbed bertha's gloved hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"It was so strange. Out of the blue, he just blew up at me and then… He sat in his chair and began mumbling. When I got closer, I could hear him, and it sounded like he was arguing with himself. He kept saying things like, 'Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about.' and 'I would have felt the presence.'" Bertha brought her other hand up to her nose and rubbed it.

"Felt the presence?" Lydia narrowed her gaze and leaned closer.

"Beats me!" Bertha threw up her free hand and huffed out her exhaustion. "As it is, he's almost always looking off into space. Sometimes when we are on a case, I can hear him talking to someone when he's in another room, but when I come in, he tells me he was just thinking out loud. He never does that sort of thing when I'm near him though. Don't people who think out loud do that around other people? It doesn't make sense. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he saw a ghost or something strange like that."

Lydia adjusted her footing and laughed.

"Ghosts, huh? Well, that would be… something," Shaking her head, she looked to Bertha and patted her. "I dunno, it sounds to me like maybe he has some internal demons. I don't think he was talking to a ghost."

"What, you mean like some sorta split personality disorder?" Now it was Bertha's turn to laugh even though Lydia didn't join in.

Bringing her hand up to her chin, Lydia's face turned into one of contemplation as she began to tap her lip.

"He seems perfectly normal to me, but you know as well as I do that 'normal' people can be the most deceiving." Lydia slyly grinned as a wash of bravery fed the impervious feeling that cloaked her. "Hey, if you were to pick out any person capable of murder who would you pin?"

"Well, gee, Lydia. That's a hard one. I mean the only person mean enough would be Claire but… "

"Besides Claire." Lydia prompted.

"I guess… Jane Butterfield?" As Bertha uttered the name, her eyes suddenly grew wide.

"Oh, my gawd. Lydia! I could totally see her offing people for their houses. I mean she thrives off of people passing away so she could…" Jumping away from the car, Bertha excitedly paced before facing Lydia while jumping up and down a couple of times. Tilting her head like a puppy, Lydia gave her friend a quizzical smile.

"Lydia, I think you might have given me an idea." Bertha slapped Lydia's shoulder repeatedly.

"Oh? How so?" She asked innocently, but within, Lydia felt smug at this little turn of events. Beej was right about how fun throwing false clues could be.

"I can't say. It's work-related, but I think I have a new lead on something. I- I think I should head back to the station. Just so I could …" Bertha hopped again and turned to go to her car.

"Go on. I'll be fine. Besides, I told Beej that I needed to do some grocery shopping before we could hang out today." Lydia waved her friend on with a small giggle.

Flinching, Bertha stopped and faced her while forcing a smile,

"Right. Um… About that… is he… is he living with you now?"

Lydia laughed and pawed at the air before straightening up.

"Practically, but no, he isn't. He still has his own place, but it's nice to finally be able to be free to spend time with him… without anyone snooping in our business."

"Oh." Bertha blushed and muttered sheepishly.

"Bertha, I didn't mean you, but if you really are curious about it, we have become closer. He's really been cheering me up lately."

Accepting this explanation, Bertha felt a wave of relief wash over her as she said her goodbyes and returned to the police station.

Pulling her jacket tighter, Lydia walked along the streets in the direction of the grocery store. It was times like these that she missed having the family car now that it was gone. Sure, she had Doomie, but she refused to make him suffer in this cold weather too.

Thankfully, the cab drivers in this town were friendly enough and were readily available at the drop of a call.

—-

From the time that he had left the police station until now, Allen must have run at least nine or more miles. It was the only thing he could safely do at the moment to release that which had threatened to self-destruct. Exhausted, he was in a desperate need to go home and let the prescribed painkillers take care of his raging migraine. Hopefully tonight the pills would work.

Unfortunately, he had at least one last errand to do before he could.

Not even bothering to enter the station, he hopped into his car. Gripping the cold steering wheel, he focused on the task at hand and tried to ignore the constant agony within his skull. Closing his eyes, he reassured himself that the faster he could get this done, the better because after all, he still had a half-hour drive to get back home.

Starting his small SUV, he pulled out of the parking lot to make his way over to The Peaceful Pines Market to pick up some much-needed groceries for the week.

It was a routine. He knew that he needed to keep at it; otherwise the rest of his week would be thrown off completely, and that was the last thing he needed. Although, the way that this day was going, it was not boding well for the rest of the week.

Stopping at a light, he felt so drained, but he knew that was normal after what had happened. _What has been going on? _ These last couple of months, the fine line between his self-control and the other part of him that he had tried so desperately to keep hidden from the world, had never felt so thin. Well, that was at least since he was a child before his mother's timely death.

A long honk startled him and notified him of the green light that he had apparently been oblivious to. Pulling forward, he continued to his goal as more thoughts of things he'd rather forget invaded his head.

Yes, the best thing to ever happen to him was when his father, a no-good excuse of a sperm donor, got locked away for the murder of his mother.

Oh no, Hannus deserved to be put away for a lot more than just that singular act, but the law could only do so much. Similarly, there wasn't much good that could be said for his mother, Brenda. Neither of them were what a person would call, good parents.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to release those thoughts, but they wouldn't let go. There was a small part of him that wished that he could have had parents like Bertha's, or even like her friends Prudence and Lydia. At least in those parental relationships, there was love, which was something that he couldn't attribute to his own.

There was only one good thing that had come from those traumatizing events, and that was his Oma and Opa. Since they adopted him, he tried to do his best to do right by the world. His first significant step was joining the academy, and his second was becoming an officer of the law. Yet, it wasn't long before he, once again, found himself all alone in this universe. First Opa, and then last spring, Oma, almost a year later after his poor grandfather it wasn't fair.

Pulling into a parking spot, Allen shut off the engine, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. The sunlight was not his friend today, and these heavy thoughts were not what he wanted. Rubbing small circles on his forehead, he did some deep breathing. _Mind over matter Allen, mind over matter._ He needed to have control. He had to have control. He could do this. Aanval is de beste verdediging.

Stepping out of the car, the cold air felt fantastic on his feverish head, but his brain wouldn't stop its dismal tangent. He needed to keep positive. He needed to keep going and do his best like Oma and Opa would have wanted him to do.

Perhaps it was for that reason he felt like he could be the one to help Bertha. She had joined the force around the same time that he did. Even from afar, he saw how she had struggled to find her place in the precinct, and over time, he had overheard all of the unpleasantness when the others would gossip near him. At a distance, he had silently witnessed her many rejections, failures, and self-destructing behavior with her constant chatter and flirtatious nature. So, when her last partner requested to be moved, no one stepped up to take their place. The others avoided her like the plague, and many wouldn't look her in the eyes for fear of her clinging to them. He knew the others were put off by Bertha being Bertha, and yet he felt nothing negative in that regard.

Even though he had never directly interacted with her before, he knew that something had to be done. It was then that Allen decided to talk to the chief and had requested to be assigned with her. Although the chief questioned him, Allen was surprised to see the relief upon the chief's face. In all of his years on the force, Allen had never had a partner and thought that he had preferred it that way. The very next day after talking to the Chief, was the start of their new partnership, and that was that. Allen didn't regret his decision, nor did he ever tell Bertha that he had requested their partnership, but he never saw the point of bringing it up.

Apart from Bertha being a projector of positive and hyperactive energy, he believed that she was a good influence on him. When she was in a cheerful mood, he was able to receive those vibes, and they would help calm him. He also found that it was nice not being alone all of the time.

Then, of course, there was another benefit to his partnership with Bertha that he had never thought of; she had friends. He had never expected for her to introduce them to him. After all, he and Bertha were just work partners, nothing more. Yet, she had repeatedly asked him to join them whenever they went out.

On one particularly hard day, Bertha had once again asked him to tag along, but that day he didn't have the will to fight. Instead, he had caved to her request and had agreed. He knew the names and some of the stories of her friends, and because of work, he had interacted with Prudence. The only one that he didn't know was the other that Bertha had continually described as if she was the most intriguing person in the world.

That night, he joined them for some drinks and had expected to sit on the sidelines just wanting to go home. Instead, he met the person that Bertha had so often talked about.

The one person that had stopped him in his tracks when he was introduced to her.

The one which he would never have expected to make him… feel.

The one who he often found himself thinking about.

The one who he currently couldn't stop staring at from the moment that he had entered the market.

In an aisle ahead of him, Lydia Deetz wandered closer with a basket in her arms. Pausing to analyze some bread, she looked as if she was debating which one was the best. It was then that she stopped moving, lifted her head, and looked directly at him.

When they made eye contact, he felt light, almost euphoric while his migraine was yanked out of the driver's seat and shoved into the trunk. Then, when she smiled at him, his heartbeat began to pick up, and his body moved forward on its own.

This… was not something that he was used to feeling.

—-

Desperately searching the neighborhood, Beetlejuice had to find Lydia, but his senses were off. So far off, that he couldn't even use their interlinking juice to pinpoint her location.

Frantically flying at top speeds, he searched every store that he could, before it finally clicked that she had said something about gross-eries.

Changing his direction, he booked it to the market just in time to see Lydia talking with that dipstick of a cop. In one hand, she had a bag of items, while the other was on that man's chest. Lifting herself up with her toes, she placed a kiss upon his cheek, and Allen flushed a deep red. Beetlejuice, on the other hand, turned just as red for a different reason.

Quickly materializing, he rushed over, violently grabbing Lydia by the arm.

"You are coming with me." He snarled before glaring at the cop. "Hands off, pretty boy."

"Beej!" Lydia shrieked, though she did nothing to fight against him as he pulled her away from the building.

Not stopping, he dragged her down the road until he ducked into an alleyway where there was enough privacy to teleport.

Appearing in the ice-covered garden behind the Peaceful Pines Library, Lydia pulled her arm away from him.

"What the hell was all that about?" She screamed at him and nearly lost her balance on the slippery terrain. Trying to keep from falling, her bag slid off of her wrist and fell to the frozen ground with a sickening crack, breaking all of her eggs upon impact.

Ignoring her rage, Beetlejuice grabbed her shoulders and screamed.

"Claire Brewster was your sister!"


	18. Blood was its Avatar

"Blood was its Avatar and its seal." -Edgar Allan Poe

Ch 18

"Is that some kind of sick joke?" Lydia's deadpan gaze did nothing to calm the disturbed ghost in front of her.

Holding her firmly, his fingers dug into her shoulders as his wide-eyed stare bore into hers.

"I'm as serious as the grave here, Babes! Prune did the test, then somehow they pulled your spit 'n hair and compared it to that bloody, fucked-up ditz's corpse. You two are sisters."

"No. That's not possible, Beej. Daddy would have never cheated. He wasn't that kind of guy, and even if he would have, I highly doubt that Brewster snob would… that's just… ugh!"

Managing to wiggle his fingers off of her, Lydia turned away from him to pick up her fallen bag. Across her face played dismay and frustration, as she picked up the soggy bag.

"Your mom, Lyds. It was your fucking whore of a mother who cheated on old Chuck-Bucket!"

The air around Lydia dropped, as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she could have sworn that her stomach did a flip.

"She… No." As the horror of his implication froze her blood, Lydia blankly turned to face him.

"It's true. Look." Beej produced a series of photos that he had stolen from the secret file that was placed on Bertha's desk. Each one further driving the truth to the surface. Lydia's eyes didn't want to see what was in front of her: A photo of two babies, Lydia and Claire, another was a photo of Claire's mother having a nice, cordial chat with Charles Deetz, one of Marvin Brewster at her mother's funeral, and finally a photo of Lydia's mother riding Claire's father like there's no tomorrow.

It became too much for her mind to process as a sheet of white blinded behind her eyes, and her legs gave out from underneath. Wilting fast, Lydia sank as the incriminating photos vanished and Beetlejuice caught her in his arms.

"Then… then… my father…" Lydia began to choke on her words while the comprehension of all the facts hit her. Cracking, like the eggs that had hit the frozen ground, Lydia crumpled into Beetlejuice's embrace and began to cry.

—

'Pride and Prejudice' was not only the name of the book that was held tightly within Miss Shannon's arms, but the appellation was also deeply inscribed into her very soul.

For the Shannon's, ever since they had first arrived into this little peripheral town, they had remained the shining zenith of upstanding citizens. In her eyes, she was a woman of purity, a woman of virtues, and a woman who knew propriety. As such, in her school, she had enforced and instilled those notions into the young ladies of the community for nearly two decades. Before her, it was her mother who superintended the girls-only institution with a draconian commandment.

She was infallible in her decorum, and only once did she accredit her inappropriate nature to slip into the view of her students. Yet, for that one instance, it was not from her own miscue. No, it was solely by virtue of her being victimized by that fraudulent charlatan. For that humiliation, she would eternally hold a grudge against the one man who had shamed her good name. It was a crime without justice, and she would have happily had him locked up for his numerous misdeeds. Yet, somehow, that man had always got off scot-free without any repercussions, never mind how abhorrent the delinquency.

Currently, that very man was now in the gardens behind the library that she so dearly loved. Worse still, the cad was sitting upon a wrought iron bench and cradling the tiny, frail figure of one of her former students, Lydia Deetz.

Miss Shannon felt her ire rise from such a wanton display of vulgarity.

It was shamelessly indecent, and as such, it was her duty to correct this situation, post haste.

—-

Sniffling, Lydia curled into Beetlejuice's fold, while he tried his best to radiate some heat her way.

"You alright there?" He asked when she finally hiccupped her cries to a stop.

Nuzzling into his neck, breathing him in, she whispered her words against his skin.

"…and all I've loved… I've loved alone."

"Aww, Babes. Yer never alone." He assured her while squeezing her tight. "You got me, and I'm in it for the long run."

With a smile, Lydia placed a gentle kiss under his chin, to which he returned one upon her head.

"Is this your way of telling me that you love me?" Although it felt hollow, she asked it in an attempt to lift her own spirits.

"Is this your way of fishing for more information?" He teased in return while slowly gripping up her thigh.

"Ah, I get it. You'd rather let those wandering hands do all the talking." Opening her mouth, she gifted him a chance for a kiss, but once he attempted to close the gap, she immediately pulled back.

With newfound tears, Lydia giggled at his feigned frustration as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Surrendering, she granted his kisses to wipe away any traces of the hurt and betrayal that had been left behind by the woman who Lydia would have gladly killed for a second time.

"Ahem!" The firm clearing of a stranger's throat intruded in, startling Lydia and Beetlejuice to straighten up in surprise.

"This ain't a free show!" Beej snarled. "Oh, it's you."

"Miss Shannon?" Wiping her eyes, Lydia addressed her former headmistress while sliding off of Beetlejuice's lap.

"Have you no shame?" The woman barked at Beetleman before turning her attention to Lydia. "And you, young woman! I know that I have taught you how to be a proper lady, but this is by far the most unnatural and improprietous thing I have ever seen. Not even your classmate, Betty would have behaved in such an indecorous way."

"Oh, boy. Are you barking up the wrong tree or what?" Beetlejuice began to laugh. "You really thought Betty was your student? Good gods, Babes, I had no idea that yer power extended to the whole school staff. I mean, a little befuddling but damn, they should have forgotten little old Betty."

"It's not like you gave me instructions." As Lydia took hold of his arm, it was apparent that it was a move that Miss Shannon did not appreciate.

"Regardless of what is obviously poor judgment on Miss Deet's part for cavorting with a much older and uncouth individual, but you Mr. Beetleman have no excuse, you are completely vile!" Miss Shannon rounded on the couple with her finger-wagging at them in disapproval.

Beej only chuckled to the old headmistress's diatribe.

"Awww, compliments. You shouldn't have."

"Mr. Beetleman, I ought to have you arrested for your insidious predatory behavior. You have been sniffing around my student for long enough." Folding her arms, Miss Shannon's nose rose into the air, but her eyes never left their gaze from the ghost.

"Need I remind you that I am no longer your student and I am not a child." Lydia's voice dropped in tone as she stepped forward protectively in front of her childhood best friend.

"Perhaps not Miss Deetz, but I am certain that I am not the one responsible for your loose set of virtues. Such harlotry is reprehensible." The head-mistress balked as her nose went higher.

"Aaaaaaaand this is where you shut the fuck up." Beej wound up his arm, threw his juice in Shannon's face, and a solid bolted plate of metal silenced her on the spot.

Had she had the time to realize that he juiced her former school teacher, Lydia would have interjected. However, by that time, he had looped her elbow with his, and the three of them vanished into the chilly air.

No trace of them was left, except for the abandoned shopping bag of broken eggs, a loaf of bread, and a shattered glass pint of milk that had puddled was now crystallized upon the icy ground.

—-

The scenery was nothing but a blur in Allen's eyes as his mind focused on other things. Confounding thoughts swirled and waltzed within his brain over what had transpired only moments ago at the market.

He understood what had happened, but at the same time, it didn't make sense. There was clearly more to the whole situation, and it left him perplexed. So, he repeatedly replayed the scene within his head.

After talking a little bit with Lydia, he had bore witness to Mr. Beetleman abruptly appearing out of nowhere and stealing her away. Also, when he had observed the way that Mr. Beetleman gripped ahold of her arm and treated her similarly to a possession; well, that alone filled Allen's stomach with lead. Of course, there were many things about Mr. Beetleman that didn't sit well within him, and this was just another thing to tick off on the growing list against him.

Coming to a stop near the Peaceful Pine's library, Allen used this opportunity to try to still his now noticeable and ragged breathing. He couldn't understand why he was feeling so bothered by what had happened. There was a multitude of things that didn't make sense to him, and Beetleman's actions were irritating him more than he ever thought that they could. In fact, all it did was poke at the sleeping darkness that was inside of him. No, he needed to talk to someone about it. There was always a chance that he had seen it incorrectly. Shaking his head, he knew better than that and understood that this wasn't the case. He had perceived every detail of what had transpired very clearly... Especially how she was undoubtedly not expecting Mr. Beetleman and didn't look happy about what he had done.

Grabbing the radio, he needed to follow through on this.

"10-20, Brown?" Gripping the receiver, he waited for a response, but it wasn't long before a break in the static answered his call.

"10-23"

"Roger." Mindlessly tapping the handset, Allen's anxious feeling would not abate, and as time went on, he got tired of waiting and pulled away to head to the station.

His mind would not relent as he dwelled on every interaction that he had ever had with Mr. Beetleman. Something about that and the urge within him to take action about the unnatural attachment shook him to the core. Yet, he also found that the feeling only grew whenever he discovered that Mr. Beetleman was around Lydia Deetz. In his opinion, it didn't appear to be healthy for her. Let alone, nor was it healthy for him to be so engrossed with the odd relationship between the two.

Things would be so much better for both of their mental health if the distraction of Mr. Beetleman wasn't in her life.

Allen's conclusion was succinct and simple, with only one word: trouble. Mr. Beetleman was trouble for anyone around him.

"Wakey, wakey."

In the middle of the Roadhouse's living-dead room, a woman slowly stirred, regaining consciousness in the chair that she was tied to. As she roused, she didn't recall blacking out, but perhaps that would serve as a blessing for her. After all, it had made it much easier and less traumatic to tie up Mis Shannon.

Beetlejuice was enjoying this far more than he would ever let on. His feigned annoyance for having to kidnap the old bag was nothing more than a front because, on the inside, he was giddy and practically ready to burst with excitement.

As the door opened from behind him, light flooded into the room and fell upon her restrained form. Miss Shannon flinched from the glare that crept into the room from the setting sun and cast an unearthly glow around those that were within it.

"Beej, are you sure that you want them to see this?" Lydia tentatively asked before a voice behind her boomed.

"What in tarnation are y'all playin' at hair, Beetlejuice? Ms. Lydia's sayin' sumthin' about waking up but I ain't been sleep walkin', iffin that's what yer gettin' at."

"Yeah, I don't understand. I was in the middle of practicing my new routine-"

"And I was 'bout to practice my lifts. Do you 'ave any idea 'ow difficult it can be to work on muscles memory wizout muscles?"

Beetlejuice laughed darkly at their inquiries. Oh, the crew would be in for a real treat after they process the upcoming horror within their little innocent, neitherworld-rattled minds.

"Why dontcha bring 'em in Babes. Miss Shannon and I are about to have a little chat before it's showtime."

Shrugging apathetically, Lydia opened the door all of the way and led his neighbors into the dark room.

"Lydia, why on earth do you have a woman tied up?" Ginger squeaked in horror.

"This jus' ain't right. Beetlejuice you let that little lady go." The Monster growled, but before any more fuss could be raised, Beetlejuice zapped them all into duplicate chairs and ropes.

"Witnesses, pfft. You know I love 'em!" He cackled as Lydia juiced up her own chair, took a seat next to their friends, and leaned forward with both elbows on her knees while resting her head into her hands.

"Well, are you going to explain why you even sent me out to get witnesses?" Lydia asked, and perhaps she would have gotten an answer if at that moment, Miss Shannon had not let out a muffled scream from behind her metallic gag.

"Oh! Almost forgot, I can't have an interrogation if the pie-hole can't squeal." With a point of his finger, the metal plate dissolved into ash and salt before sprinkling into the horrified woman's lap.

"You horrible man! How dare you kidnap me! Let me go this instant OR I WILL HAVE YOU REPORTED!" Miss Shannon's words were thrown about like daggers, but they were only met with a shrug from the ghost in front of her.

"To who and for what? All I did was shut you up and give you a comfortable seat. Although I highly doubt that you will be comfortable for much longer."

With a clap of his hands, a spotlight flooded down upon Miss Shannon's face, causing her to wince. Silently she glared at Beetlejuice and Lydia before her eyes wandered to take in the room. When the other three beings come into her focus, her eyes grew wide, and she felt another scream bubble up from inside of her. Before she could fully release it, Beetlejuice tsked her.

"Ah, ah, ah... We're not going there, toots. After everything you've done, you can't try to make us feel sorry for ya now."

"I haven't done anything!" She indignantly hissed at him.

"Oh, really? Well, I have to say that's a load of bullshit." He sniggered when he adopted his Sherlock Homely guise. "You, my dear, have skeletons in your closet skinnier that Jacq-a-moe over there."

Beetlejuice made a nod over to the restrained skeleton, but Jacques grunted against his bindings and gag. With that, it was apparent that he wasn't pleased with the insult.

"Tell me, did you deliberately take payments for Claire Brewster to excel in all her classes, even though that bitch was dumber than bricks." He sucked on his pipe and awaited her answer with half-lidded eyes.

"Why, I never!" Miss Shannon brusquely turned her head up and closed her eyes.

"Lying will get you no sympathy from the devil!" He sing-songed while taking his pipe to turn her face back into his direction.

"Beej, bribery is not a good enough of a reason to kill her." Lydia's bored expression waned and transformed into a small smile as she continued to watch his antics.

"Oh, just wait, Babes. I'm gonna be turning up the heat." He grinned at her.

After the words were uttered, Miss Shannon's seat briefly lit up accompanied by her screams with a blazing fire, before it faded until the legs of the chair glowed to an orange ember. From the lasting pain of the fire, paired with the humiliation of her now-exposed legs from her charred clothing, her eyes began to fill with tears.

"Now, now, now Shanny… come on and tell us the truth." Prodding her further with his words, he turned on his heel, faced away from her with his back now to the captive head-mistress.

"Yes," Softly the words came out of her quieter than a whisper.

"Yes? What?" BJ risked a snarky glance over his shoulder.

"The Brewster's remunerated the school so that Claire would pass all of her classes." The woman sniffled and lowered her gaze.

Stepping away from the old red-head, Beetlejuice nodded while erasing all evidence of any fire, but he wasn't stopping there.

"Good answer. Now, as far as payment goes; didn't you get a little something extra than the normal "donation" when you made Claire valedictorian instead of Prudence?"

After a long silence, Lydia's body stiffened when there was no answer from the older woman.

"Beej, I don't think I want…" Lydia began, shifting in her seat.

"Yes." Miss Shannon interrupted as she spat out the word with a vehemence.

Cackling Beetlejuice produced a knife and presented it for Lydia.

"Hey, Babes, come here. Methinks that this birdy is ready to sing and here it only took a little heat."

Rising from her chair, Lydia soon crossed the room to stand alongside Beetlejuice. Hesitantly at first, she carefully took the knife from him before firmly holding it in her hand. She needed to know the reasons for why such an injustice happened to her friend.

"I don't understand, how could you do that to Prudence? All she has ever wanted was to be a surgeon, a famous doctor, or a scientist that could have changed the world. I know that she could have been any of those things if only she had met the requirements that any of the school's that she chose had needed. If she had been valedictorian, she could have easily gotten into any of those desired fields. She earned that spot." Lydia shook her head, disappointed in her headmistress.

"Certainly, Miss Miller is smart, but she would never have made it into any of those distinguished schools that she had applied for. After all, her pedigree was not where it should have been, and they only look for... Ahhh!" Miss Shannon's thoughts were interrupted by her own scream when Lydia slashed the woman's shoulder with her knife.

"What does pedigree have to do with anything?! She's not a dog, Miss Shannon! She is singularly the most brilliant student who has ever stepped foot into your school." Lydia shouted at the sobbing woman in front of her before Miss Shannon shot back at her with her own deep-seated anger.

"You were a wretched mistake to bring into my school, Lydia Deetz!" The now red in the face head-mistress screeched.

As Beetlejuice raised his hand to silence her, Lydia stilled him as Miss Shannon whimpered in reply.

"Yes, it _was_ a mistake! I should have gone to the public school, but for some reason, Daddy insisted I went there. He always said that my tuition would be paid for because of my circumstances, but I always thought that he meant that it was because of my mother… " She glanced to Beetlejuice with hurt behind her eyes as the truth firmly embedded itself inside of her heart. "That wasn't the truth. Oh, daddy…"

"He would never have gotten you into my school. Not after…" Shannon blurted out before she gasped and swiftly clamped her mouth shut.

Narrowing her eyes, Lydia turned to look at the woman eyes narrowed.

"Not after what?" Her words were firm while her eyes burned darkly

As Miss Shannon shook her head to keep silent, Beetlejuice slid behind her, placed his hands around her neck, and gave a squeeze firm enough to get his point across.

"NNnnnnnngh… You are a horrible child!" She growled before Beej once again compressed his fingers upon her.

"Did you or did you not continually set up Lydia for ridicule throughout her whole time in your little sorry-of-an-excuse of a school? Don't you dare lie to me, Shanny, I was there. I saw everything."

"Disgusting perverted… AH! Nnnggggh…. Yes!" She gasped out. "Yes, I did. I had to… Claire didn't want her position challenged."

"But what did my father do? Beej! Let go of her throat; I want some answers." Lydia stepped closer, pointing the knife directly towards the Headmistress's face. "Why would he, as you say, never would have been able to secure my place in your little prim and proper hell?"

Once again, Miss Shannon averted her face from the two, but something quickly caught Beetlejuice's eye.

"Ooooh, Babes, lookit that blush. I think this stick-in-the-mud, prude wanted to get into Ol' Chucky's pants." Beetlejuice leaned forward with a lecherous sneer.

Instantly Miss Shannon bawled out a horrific cry before turning her venom on Lydia.

"Dirty little bastard child, you didn't deserve to be in my school! Oh no, but your way was already paid for by your slut of a mother and your philandering father. Humph, he wanted to make sure his two little girls never knew a word of the truth! That man who raised you was too good of a person to have reared such a hell-spawn like you. Disgusting bad blood! Improper breeding! You child of a Succubus…"

Her rant was cut short when Lydia slashed at the helpless woman, but it was too late, she was already dead. Before Lydia's blade had even made contact, Beetlejuice's hands had proven to be quicker and by then had succinctly snapped the headmistress's neck.

"Beej!" Whipping her face up to meet the ghost, Lydia's incredulous expression bored into him.

"Oh shit!" He realized, but it was now too late to change anything because the damage was done. The dead had killed the now-dead, and this kill would not count towards Lydia's quota. Not only that, he had never murdered a woman before.

Leaning forward, Lydia touched the woman's neck and felt the protruding broken bones.

"Damnit, Beetlejuice, you weren't the one who was supposed to kill her!" She huffed out her frustration.

"She was insulting you Babes! Did ya think that I…" Beetlejuice stopped as the energy around them began to shift and change.

As the three bound ghosts unleashed themselves, their ropes fell forgotten upon the floor as they slowly approached the bloodied lifeless body. Small puddles of crimson grew larger with each droplet that fell from the cooling body above.

"Oh my! Lydia, darling… you made the perfect cut!" Ginger cooed with approval as she crawled up on the body to examine the cut with her delicate fingers.

"Well, I'll be doggone... I _was_ asleep." The Monster moved behind the body and lifted the dead woman's head to get a better look at it. "Hehe, she sure is a purty sight. Wouldn'ta thought ta bring a breather here fer fun. That there some good thinkin', Beetlejuice."

"Indeed, eet eez. My, my, my... This specimen will be wonderful with a bourguignon. Pair eet with a deep, well-rounded red wine and stewed eet to perfection. Ah, I do miss ze taste of flesh. Zat eez much more tender zan beef, don't you sink Ginger?" Jacques gushed while poking at the soft thighs of the dead woman.

"Well, I wouldn't know Jacques. We never did get ta meet when I was alive, an' I've never had the chance to taste your specialties." Ginger giggled.

Backing away from her friends, Lydia was horrified and yet at the same time intrigued by their conversation.

"Welcome to my world, Lyds. Ain't it great!" Beetlejuice wrapped his arm around her petite body while taking one hand to trail a line of blood across her face. "Better get your hands in that wonderful ooze. While it ain't a kill for ya, there are some benefits to getting blood on your hands in my world."

Spinning around, Lydia wrapped her arms around him. Staring into his softened eyes, she began to melt into his embrace, while raising one leg up and hooking it around his hip.

"Seems like we get closer and closer each time ya kill someone." His voice rumbled as his hands fell to her hip and pulled her tight. "Starting ta think that yer crazy about me. Then again, it could just be the high…"

With a finger pressed to his lips, Lydia halted him, before placing her own in its stead. Barely touching him, she let the sensations of his wandering hands play her like a fiddle.

"I was never insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched." she recited softly against his cool lips.

He chuckled, allowing her to breathe out her mortal breath into his lifeless body.

"You're fucking morbid, Babes. I love it."


	19. I fell violently

"And I fell violently on my face." -

Ch 19

Three days had passed, and not one person had heard a single whisper about the whereabouts of Lydia Deetz.

Three days of confusion and worry had plagued the trio on the task force that was in charge of the investigation surrounding Mr. Beetleman and Lydia.

Although Bertha and Prudence had refused to believe in any possibility of BJ Beetleman kidnapping their longtime friend, Allen had known that there had to have been no other likelihood.

Still, he was trying to piece together what had transpired that day he had last seen her at the market. He might have missed something, one tiny detail either in her interaction or in the conversation leading up to it, that could have brought forth more clarity.

When he had last seen her, she was nearly ready to leave after only collecting three items: Bread, eggs, and milk. They were just the basic staples of an average household, and nothing more could be gathered from that.

The manner in which she had smiled his way nearly caused him to cave from the emotion inside him. Never in all of his years could he remember having that for another human being.

After she had walked in his direction, she greeted him with a hug. It was warm and soft, and with it, she had gifted him a gentle squeeze. That sort of familiarity was not one that he had expected from knowing her for so short of a time.

"Bertha was telling me that you were having a rough day." She had commented. "If you ever need anything or anyone to talk to, you can always call me. It's been said that I'm very good at listening."

"Ah, yeah. Thank you. I'm sorry, I'm really not much of one for sharing." He rubbed his neck while absent-mindedly examining her bag.

"So I've been told. Don't worry. You don't have to tell me anything that you don't want to. After all of the secrets that get spread around this town, it's amazing that anyone has a private life. Well, the offer stands just in case you change your mind. Daddy used to tell me that everyone had demons and to never hold them against anyone. A person's past can only shape them so much, and it's their choices and intent that can determine their own destiny." Lydia rocked on her heels and held her bag with both hands.

Allen chuckled at that and accepted her truth as it resonated within him. At that moment, she had no idea how true those words felt.

"Do… do you think, that is, would you want to go out to lunch with me sometime?" He had felt awkward inquiring her about it, as he was completely unsure if that was the protocol for asking a girl on a date. He was hoping that it was possibly welcoming enough so that he could perhaps finally find a real friend in this universe… maybe even a real connection.

As she enthusiastically agreed, it was then that Lydia began to grin wider than he had ever seen her do before.

Later, when they exited the market, his hopes were dashed when her so-called friend snagged her by the arm, glaring at him while yanking Lydia away into a dark and dank alley.

Unfortunately, that was the last that he had seen of her since.

Directly after that, things did not improve when he got back to the station after he had discovered a horrified Bertha clutching onto a folder. Before she glanced his way, tears were sliding down her face, and with a trembling lip, she silently handed it over to him.

Inside the file, it bore a terrible revelation, and had it been his own results and not that of a lonely woman who had lost her entire family; it would have turned his own blood cold.

If Lydia were to ever discover the truth, he didn't know if she would still be as cheerful and caring as she had been. He felt incredibly sympathetic for her and hoped that nobody would break this awful news to her.

Still, it had been three days since and not a peep had been heard from Lydia. In all that time, she had not been at her house, and they had checked there with a regular frequency. On top of it, no one knew where Mr. Beetleman lived, so there was no possibility of tracking him down for questioning.

Shaking his head, Allen knew that they wouldn't find him, and he was right. Now all they had to do was wait to see what would happen next. It was the waiting that was the worst of it, never knowing when the other shoe would drop, and it had left him constantly feeling on edge.

It was then that a file was tossed onto his desk and broke his train of thought.

Glancing up, he observed the annoyed expression of the crime scene investigator who assisted them on the Brewster case.

"Pam?" He questioned, not used to seeing the characteristically laidback Investigator so irked.

"You and your partner shouldn't be getting personal visitors when on the clock. There is a woman at the entrance that is waiting to speak to you both." She rolled her eyes with a long drawn out inhale before she locked eyes with him and then pointed to the folder.

"Also, Mordelle had asked me to give that to you. Now I don't know what's been going on in this crazy insane asylum, but I didn't transfer here to be anyone's messenger." Placing her hands on her hips, she sucked her teeth before tapping her fingers to her body.

Retrieving the folder, Allen stood up and nodded to her with a grateful smile.

"Thank you. I'll take care of it right away."

After she had left, Allen walked over and with the folder, he tapped his partner's shoulder. Startled out of her reading, Bertha jumped and mockingly glared at her partner.

"This better be important." She facetiously spat out.

"Beats me. We apparently have a visitor waiting for us." Allen didn't take her playful bait and plopped the unopened folder on Bertha's desk. She, however, lifted it up and turned her attention to it while grumbling about his lack of intrigue.

"Visitor? That's strange. We don't… oh my god, this isn't happening." Bertha gasped as she read the contents. "Miss Shannon has been reported as a missing person. I don't get it, first Lydia and now…"

"Am I in trouble or something?" A gentle feminine voice laughed at the sound of her name being shouted.

Bertha and Allen whipped around to see Lydia, who was leaning against the front counter with her head craned, trying to get a better look at them.

"Lydia!" Bertha exclaimed. "Where have you been?! We've been looking all over!"

Standing mute, caught between relief and upset, Allen was at a loss on how to process any of this.

"I was on my way back home, and I ran into Monica. By the way, she looks like hell, but she mentioned something about me being classified as a 'missing person'?" Lydia shrugged with a small laugh.

Bertha jumped right into the action with Allen following right alongside.

"Three days, Lydia! You've been gone for three days, and no one knew-"

"Bertha, I think it would be best if we take this somewhere private." Allen interrupted, gesturing to one of the open offices that were often used to interview both witnesses and suspects alike.

"Lead the way Officers." Giggling, Lydia grinned at him before following them away from the prying eyes and ears of the entire force that was present in the room.

The moment that she closed the door behind them, Bertha rounded on her.

"Spill sister. Allen said that Beetleman practically kidnapped you at the market. We have been at your place several times looking for you and with all this insanity going around…"

"Insanity?" Lydia shook her head, confused before raising her hands in defense. "Look, we had an issue, and I needed to go to his place for a few days to help out some of his old friends. It's now all taken care of."

"May I ask what exactly you did when you were with Mr. Beetleman?" Allen inquired while crossing his arms. Although his face was a placid mask, Lydia felt the guilt begin to well within her being.

"It's kind of hard to explain." She began, before wilting under the intense gaze of her friends. "You see when he picked me up at the market…"

"He grabbed you roughly by the arm and pulled you away. It was clear that you were not expecting him or else you would not have looked so startled." Allen pressed on, but his words were succinct and carried no hint of anger, but still, it was intimidating.

"No. You are right that I wasn't expecting him." She shrugged. "It's just, he's never been a patient person, and he really wanted to…" Pausing, she bit her lip. "Well, he needed to share some bad news with me."

"Did he hurt you in any way? Has he ever hurt you at any point in time?" Allen adjusted his footing, and calmly continued his query.

Bertha looked to Allen, uncertain if she wanted to hear any of this but found relief when Lydia gave a light laugh.

"The only thing Beej has ever done to hurt me was when he failed to realize that I used to have a school-girl crush on him. Things are much better now."

Bertha felt her jaw drop.

"You did?! And you never told me?!" Bertha practically leaped forward and grabbed Lydia by the shoulders while yanking her forward.

"Well if I had told you and Prudence, it would have been only a matter of time before someone else like Claire or her sycophantic followers overheard it. Besides, you already knew how upset Mother and Father were when they were just assuming things about us. Now, imagine how they would have reacted if they had actually known how I felt?" Leaning back from Bertha's grip, Lydia calmly shook her head.

"Are you and Mr. Beetleman in a relationship?" Even though Allen narrowed his eyes, his intonation did not belie any hint of anger. In Bertha's opinion, he perhaps seemed a little too keen to ask that particular question, but even she understood that it would be best to know the facts of what they were dealing with.

"Beej is my best friend and has been for years. If you are asking me if he's my 'boyfriend,' then no, we never had that sort of conversation, but if you are asking if he molested me against my will, then that would be a big hell no. As for right now, I will admit to taking a bit of comfort in him, but that really isn't something that I'm currently willing to talk about." As she spoke, Lydia felt her body seize into full defense mode which did not go unnoticed by either officer.

If Lydia wasn't in the mood to talk, Bertha didn't know where to go with this line of questioning. She had never felt comfortable interrogating her friends whenever they shut down like this. Besides, those types of defensive walls had always taken the fun out of any good and juicy gossip.

Letting his arms drop to his side, Allen then ran his hand through his hair before looking up to Lydia.

"So, just to be clear, what you are saying to us is that you had willingly left with Mr. Beetleman to go out of town to help some friends and were in no apparent danger whatsoever?"

"Exactly." Lydia nodded with a small smile.

Releasing an exasperated breath, Bertha moved towards the closed door before looking at her friend with her tired eyes.

"I'm gonna go get us some coffee, and then we gotta get back to work. Lydia, next time do me a favor, please, just give us a call if you're going to be gone for a while. Please. You have no idea what kind of crazy stuff has been happening around town, and I can't handle worrying about you when you disappear like that." Lowering her eyes, she sighed and gripped the handle to the door.

"Are you gonna tell me what's been happening?" Lydia asked, hopeful that they would perhaps reveal a morsel of something to her.

"I can't. Not right now." With that, Bertha left the room.

The instant that the door closed behind her, Allen unexpectedly moved forward. Flinching to protect herself from the sudden movement, Lydia quickly realized that her reaction was overly dramatic for the situation that had just happened.

"Uh… Allen?" She questioned as he pulled her closer to his body while he embraced her.

"You have no idea how worried I was." His muffled words were barely audible while giving her another gentle squeeze, but he was pleasantly surprised when she hugged him in return.

—-

"Bahahahaha! Oh, boy, and what else happened? Did he kiss ya?" Beej was actively popping bits of popcorn and flies into his greedy maw while Lydia regaled her heart-felt tale of reunion to him.

"Nothing else happened. I apologized to him then he immediately let go and stood even further away from me. After that, Bertha returned with our coffee, and I left."

Lydia flopped back onto her bed before languishingly stretching her body. As she did so, her short skirt rode up. Beetlejuice would have been in for a treat had she not been wearing tights.

"No worries. It's not gonna take much to get that schmuck into yer back pocket. Pretty soon he'll be spillin' all of his dirty little secrets to ya." BJ spoke with his mouth full and ogled the view in front of him.

"Is all of this really necessary?" Closing her eyes, she heaved a sigh.

"Burp and Prune won't be opening up to ya more than they already are. So, the only way to get more intel is to get that pillow talk in, and frankly, those two don't exactly dig chicks if you catch my drift." He winked and grabbed for more of his popped snack.

"So what? Are you telling me that you want me to jump into bed with Allen?" Lydia smirked, knowing full well that she could very easily push Beej's buttons with that simple remark. However, she wasn't expecting the answer that he gave her in return.

"What did you think I meant by seduction, Lyds?" He cackled at the horrified expression on Lydia's face.

—- "_First, start slow. Let him know you're interested"_—-

Allen usually enjoyed being on patrol. Typically, it was with Bertha, but on a rare occasion, he could go it alone when she had other things that had kept her occupied.

On a day like today, he particularly enjoyed it since the seasons were just starting to show signs of change and that filled him with an underlying excitement. The streets were quiet, and luckily, aside from the school's headmistress being MIA, there hadn't been any unnatural or sudden deaths to be reported.

In fact, there hadn't even been a single call for any domestic disputes.

While there was still a significant chill in the air, he didn't really pay much mind to it, after all, it was the natural order of things.

No, he truly loved days like today, and it only appeared to be getting better when he spotted a figure all in black that was exiting the library. Appearing to be slightly off-balance, she spotted him, and even though her arms were chock-full of books, she still gave him a little wave.

Pulling his cruiser to the curb closest to her, he called out to her from his window.

"Lydia! Did you maybe need or want some help?" He couldn't help the smile that formed on his face when she began to beam at him like he was her newfound hero.

"Please! I was supposed to call a cab but…" As she spoke, Lydia attempted to readjust the books, only to nearly lose one.

"Say no more. Here, I can give you a lift." Putting the car in park, he quickly unbuckled and exited the car.

Lydia beamed excitedly and swiftly closed the distance between the last steps of the Library to the cruiser. By the time that she reached it, Allen had unloaded a few of her books and had the passenger side door already opened for her.

Once settled, she tucked the length of her long skirt under her thighs and placed her collection of no less than six thick books upon her lap.

After returning to the driver's side, Allen quickly adjusted the heat for her. "Please, let me know if it's too warm for you."

Gently replying, Lydia touched his hand.

"This is perfect."

As his car pulled away from the curb, Allen began to dwell on what was the protocol of initiating a conversation. While neither of them spoke, a reserved silence filled the car. He certainly didn't mind this; in fact, he enjoyed being around her and had surprisingly found himself wanting to spend even more time with her. Although he truly appreciated this moment, there was still something weighing on him, and he needed to get it off of his chest.

Clearing his throat, he broke the silence and began.

"I need to apologize to you."

"For what? We hardly get to spend any time together. So, what in the world would you need to apologize to me for?" Laughing softly, Lydia turned to look at him with a bemused expression that crossed her face.

While he formulated the right words, he hesitated before continuing.

"I need to apologize to you for my abhorrent behavior. I feel terrible for when I lost control on New Year's Eve and kissed you. It was a spur of the moment whim, and I didn't think it through. I know that it's tradition, but that's no excuse, I never should have kissed you without your permission. On top of it, I also owe you an apology for hugging you when you recently visited the precinct… I should've been more professional. I don't understand why I did it. I swear it's not like me at all and since then I've been beating myself up for my utter lack of control." His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel and inhaled the underlying anger with himself.

"Oh, that?" Lydia brightly smiled at him. Out of his peripheral, he could see that she was fluttering her eyes and teasing him with her posture. "You know, I could accept the apology... or I could just.. I dunno, give you permission."

After a quick double-take, he shot his gaze back to the road as he processed her words. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he was completely unsure about where she was going with this.

"Oh... ok?" His voice was filled with uncertainty, perhaps even nervousness when they rounded a corner toward the road that led up the familiar hill.

With a steady intensity, Lydia carefully watched him. He could feel the penetrating scrutiny from those lovely brown eyes of hers, even though he was unsure of why she would even be interested in his reaction.

"You know Allen; I'm not going to bite you." She giggled when she spied the subtle flush that he tried to hide. "What kind of friend would I be if I did that?"

"Ah, right…" he trailed off as he pulled up the driveway and stopped in front of her house. "There you go. Safely home."

Taking him completely by surprise, Lydia leaned over and gave Allen a hug.

"I'm not sorry about this." She said, before releasing him and exiting the car.

His astounded expression did not leave him even as he watched her every subtle movement until she was behind her front door. Shaking his head to sober up, he put the cruiser in reverse before turning around to return to his patrol of the streets to make sure that all was as it should be.

—

"So did you kiss him again?" Beetlejuice curiously asked as he trailed his long tongue against the bloody goose-flesh along her arm. Lydia squirmed before swatting at the ghost to roll over on top of him.

"No." She answered as she gave his hooked nose a kiss. "I don't want to be too forward. Besides, if you are so determined to seduce him, why not have Betty do it?"

This time it was Beetlejuice's turn to look horrified.

—- "_Get the guy to ask you out. Be alone with him_"—

There was another murder.

This time it was straight forward, but no murder weapon was found, and the knife wounds were similar to the M.O. of the other two cases. Still, there was a strong possibility that this could now be counted as three cases if Mrs. Deetz's death was included in that tally.

Sitting in a cafe, Allen reviewed his notes, but he couldn't help but wonder how on earth the killer had managed to escape without a point of entry. Frustratingly so, on this new case, there were so few leads on the death of Mr. Kane, the theater director of the local private school.

Narrowing his eyes, he focused on a connection: Miss Shannon's school.

The coffee cup that was placed on the table and slid over to him startled him from his state of concentration. Coolly looking up, he gently closed the files to hide any hint of surprise on his placid face.

"Hardworking even off the clock, Officer?" Lydia Deetz beamed down to him.

Leaning over, she greeted him with a peck on the cheek. To her astonishment, he happily accepted it and formally kissed her on either side of her own cheeks.

"Lydia! Hoi, goedemiddag." He greeted her and sat up to attention.

Although he certainly couldn't help but admire her, Allen noted her demeanor and began to wonder about her sudden appearance.

Pausing, he made a mental note: Since they had first started on what he could only feel was a friendship, she had been progressively wearing fewer layers. Granted, the changing of the season did correspond with the outcome. Still, he was hopeful that it was a visual representation of her feelings. He could only wish that she was perhaps finally comfortable enough to open up to him.

Today, the way that her soft sweater and dark-denim jeans hugged her feminine curves stirred up feelings that he had to force down. With a harsh mental reprimanding, he reminded himself that any similar thoughts like that would no longer be within a realm of friendship.

Although, had he been an artist, he would have loved for her to be his model because she was a work of art.

"Did I get it wrong?" She questioned as her hands curled back from the coffee cup and then stepped away from him.

"Oh, you mean the coffee! Nee, mijn schat…" he paused when he realized his words. "I'm sorry, Lydia. It's perfect."

Gifting her a gracious smile, he fluidly returned the folders to the suitcase and then motioned to the empty seat across from him.

"Would you perhaps like to join me?"

—-

"He nicknamed you?" While he held Lydia in his arms, Beetlejuice looked surprised by this. She appeared to be drained and exhausted, to which he heartily blamed on her coffee date with the cop.

"It's sweet. You know, kinda like when you call me Babes." She twisted around to nuzzle her head under his chin.

"Pfft, you are my Babes. Remember that and nuthin' else." he growled in her ear before nipping at her lobe.

—_Building self-confidence is key. Yer hot. Don't forget that _—-

When Lydia showed up for their date, she was tantalizing, and Allen could not help but notice. That was if it was a date, but he still wasn't sure what was going on between them.

From what he could discern, she seemed interested, but yet on occasion, it would slip into an uncertain limbo. She both initiated and accepted hugs, often pecked his cheek in greeting, and yet she appeared to shy away from anything deeper.

What gave him hope that there might be something more to this was how easily she fell into conversation with him.

"You look dashing tonight." Radiantly smiling to him, Lydia linked her arm on his, before tugging him to the entrance of the movie theater.

Insisting on purchasing their tickets, Lydia stood firm. Still, Allen had only relented when she said that he could purchase the concessions to make it even.

As they entered the building, Lydia sighed with the large smile affixed to her face. Grateful for his company to see the double feature of the classics Bride of Frankenstein and Brides of Dracula, Lydia gave him a peck on the lips.

Startled, he stopped in his tracks before blushing and excused himself to go get the popcorn. As he stood in line, he indifferently examined the people around him until his gaze fell upon her form. His eyes did not want to look away, but he would need to because he was now next in line. Quickly giving his order to the person at the concession stand, his vision was once again magnetically pulled back to her while he waited for their snacks.

Leaning against the wall near a poster, Lydia was patiently waiting for him. Although by all standards, she appeared to be talking to the poster, most people would blow off that fact.

After receiving their popcorn and drinks, he approached her, and she snapped to attention like nothing had happened.

"You ready?" She asked him enthusiastically.

"Lydia, were you just…" He had wanted to ask, but instead, he held his tongue. To be honest, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer.

Gently smiling, she carefully took the popcorn bucket from him so he could be free to hold the soda tray with both hands. As she noticed his analytical gaze, she sheepishly grinned, feeling as if he had caught her doing something embarrassing.

"Weird people do weird things." She awkwardly laughed and began to examine the popcorn.

"I don't think you are weird." Allen shook his head, watching her reaction to his words change as a blush began to dust her cheeks.

"Charming and handsome. Those are some dashing qualities. You really know how to make a girl feel special." Leaning onto his shoulder, Lydia coyly fluttered her eyes at him.

With a laugh, Allen rolled his eyes in reply to her gesture.

"I can see why you and Bertha get along so perfectly. You both seem to have the same sense of humor." Looking forward, he smiled broadly and guided them in the right direction.

Raising her shoulder and tilting her head his way, she smirked.

"Ah, but with me, there is a difference." She taunted.

Nodding, Allen opened the door to the darkened theater so they could go take their seats.

"True, but I am very grateful to you, mijn schat. It's nice to finally have a friend." Holding open the door, he watched as she gracefully entered with that beautiful smile.

She had only taken a couple of steps before his words finally hit her like a ton of bricks.

—-

"He what?!" Beej screamed as Lydia flopped down upon her bed. Just saying it out loud made the embarrassment bad enough, but hearing Beetlejuice's incredulous tone made her want to bury herself under her pillows and never return.

"Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore…"

"Melodrama, Babes. You know I dig it, but sometimes you just gotta jump back on that horse and ride it till the end. The story ain't over yet, Lyds. We have time to -"

"I'll get another kill in, but let's just drop this whole seduction thing. Allen isn't going to see me as more than just a friend, and I know he won't be giving away any secrets."

Beetlejuice floated over to her bed, using his juice to gently roll Lydia over till she was looking up at him.

"Then, perhaps, my little killer, you haven't been sharing the _right_ kinds of secrets."

— "If all else fails, go for broke"—-


	20. Committing a vile or a silly action

"Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action for no other reason than because he knows he should not?"

Alone within the darkened and quiet room, Lydia robed herself in a garment that was fit for the long winter nights and yet it still suited the fickle temperament of early spring. With a whispering swish of the weighty fabric, she settled herself in front of the desk and mused on the complementary mood that suited her attire and current activity.

After an intruding spark, the soft, warm glow of candlelight illuminated the dark-wooden desk and its items upon its surface. With her inkwell close by, she dipped the Neitherworldian Raven's feather quill into the murky ink and began to inscribe her heavy thoughts within the crisp parchment of the leather-bound journal.

"It was then that he had spoken to me of his theory; That I, Lydia Deetz, was nothing more than a devil's whore. That I had been the one to doom my mother, my father, and all of those around me who had sought to control my life; They, who had wished to mold me, not only into their own ideals but also to a world which would never understand nor appreciate the darkness within.

'Twas then that I, unwillingly let the thought breed into another's mind, and had chosen to squash the theory like a bug within Beetlejuice's sharpened teeth.

Using naught but my own power, my knife appeared to me; It was the gift granted to me upon the sealing of my death with my own demon, my own true love, and that damned spirit with whom I have bound my very soul.

With that blade of mystic origin, I stabbed and dug deep into the flesh of Mr. Kane as his hemorrhaged life's blood plated my hands, baptizing me, and preparing me for what was to come.

'Tis but another death to mark my journey; my passage forth.

To be with him, I needed but only a contract. Within that pact, the requirements I must adhere to and adhere to, I do, for there are the predetermined number of lives that I must yield to stay awake and to keep everything... My mind, my power, and my memories. Alas, I am obligated to deliver the perfect quota for that guarantee of cognizance, that otherwise there is not but a chance; for the slightest of wrong turns, my eternity could slip onto a path far, far away from where my macabre heart belongs…"

Resting her head in one hand, Lydia let her troubled thoughts run in circles within her brain. Worry painted her brow as she contemplated on if simply reading only the handbook and the volumes that Beetlejuice had brought her were enough. No, she certainly felt that something was missing. Perhaps there was something more that needed to be done to reach her goal? What more was there to do?

Letting out a sigh, she felt an emptiness encroach within. Thinking on it further, did she still have a goal anymore?

Biting her lip, she stared at the slow drying words as her mind meandered on without a set path. Why was she even killing? After all, Beej did propose to her and by the described standards of the handbook, such a union would negate their initial contract and guarantee that she would be able to keep everything… should she accept his proposal?

"Would it be so bad?" She mused, doodling on the side of her page.

"Ah to think, that my soul's mate would have dreamed to ask me to be his bride. To become linked and negate all bridges between this life and the next."

If she did accept his proposal, it would disrupt their balance, and that she knew. As they were now, she controlled her portion of the power and Beej had his parameters with the addition to hers to haunt as he pleased. With her ability to move about the world, his range was far more unshackled than it previously had been.

She was finally free to live her life. No one could force her into any box. No traps could be devised to break her free spirit and as long as she was able to avoid the law and its iron bars, Lydia was the mistress of her own life.

Marriage or not, Beetlejuice was her best friend, her ghostly lover, and would always be with her. Still, if she were to grant him the power of a civil union, the balance that they had crafted would dramatically shift.

That modification was not one that she was comfortable with. Uncertain to accept any further changes to her already tumultuous life, Lydia was filled with hesitation to say yes. Even though she loved her ghost and had loved him for years, that sort of alteration was not guaranteed to be in her favor. Had she not remembered the truth of the Neitherworld and had she still been the innocent girl that she thought she once was, Lydia might have said yes without blinking an eye.

"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream…" with a sigh she dipped her pen into the inkwell and continued to write.

* * *

When Bertha had originally joined the force, she felt a strong sense of duty to protect those less fortunate. To be the one to put the bullies in check and make sure nothing ever happened to the innocent bystanders regardless of their chosen lifestyle.

Even as a child, She remembered Claire going out of her way to destroy not only Bertha's confidence but to utterly humiliate anyone smarter or cooler than the spoiled rich girl. At the slightest hint of competition, the bully would strike down, even going so far as to make a mockery out of Alex the foreign exchange student.

By the time she and her friends hit high school, the bullying became unbearable. Prudence shut down and obsessed over books, completely obliterating any and all progress the trip had made to build up that wild woman. And of course, Lydia began focusing more and more attention on Betty and Mr. Beetleman in order to stay away from the antics that often triggered rage in the young woman.

It became Bertha's unspoken duty to keep them safe from the cruel comments and practical jokes. That same energy followed her in her studies and began to form into the strong brave officer she was today. A champion for the underdog. Defender of the silent and weak.

After all of that, she would have never believed, even in her wildest dreams, that she would have been staring at a suspect board that was featuring her best friend. Truthfully, it made her sick to her stomach that she had been ordered to keep tabs on Lydia's whereabouts.

Double that to the way Detective Bath and Allen were both reporting their suspicions on Beetleman. Bertha just couldn't see it. Afterall, for all of the time that she had known him, he had always been so goofy and silly. Granted, he would do anything for Lydia, that much was obvious.

But murder?

Although, after Kane's death and the fact no one could locate Miss Shannon over the last couple of months, it was clear that these cases were indeed related. If one were to include Detective Bath's cold case victim, the count would add up to four homicides and one missing person case.

In addition, the coincidences and possible motives behind it all only led a limited set of options and none of them made Bertha feel any better.

If Lydia were responsible, either directly or indirectly, then how could she stand being a part of her best friend's downfall? The girl she dedicated her time and energy defending for all those years. Her sister by all rights, just like Prudence.

And yet, if she did nothing? What then? Was it ethical to let a killer go free just because you loved them? No. This was wrong. Lydia was her family.

She could walk away from the case altogether.

Scratch that. She couldn't let someone else tail Lydia. Who else would know what to look for in terms of unusual behavior? Who would be there for her to keep her safe? And if she wasn't the killer, then who would be there to save her from a murderer?

This is where she found herself. In the middle of a moral debate. Protect the city who cared so little for the less fortunate or save her friend from a potential conviction? Where was the line when your sole reason for becoming the strong arm of the law was now your pray?

For the first time since she became an officer of the law, Bertha's sense of justice was faltering as she penned in a few discrepancies within her reports to throw off the investigation. She too would do anything to protect her friend and if that means she would, in turn, destroy her own sense of right and wrong… so be it.

* * *

Narrowly escaping justice was a piece of cake. It was something that Beetlejuice had thrived on while he was alive, and ever since he was dead, he was extremely excited to play this game once again.

He could recall all of those times that Lydia held him back. She had kept his dark side contained and directed him onto the path to be a good neighbor and positive role model to that Roman kid. Though, in the end, he began to lose it around the time that she really got into controlling him.

When she became a teenager, he was pretty sure it was bound to happen that she would outgrow his puns and wily mannerisms. Even still, Beetlejuice didn't expect that it would all happen when she reached the age of fifteen.

The way that she was able to manipulate him, often surprised him. She had played him more ways than he would have dared to admit, but he loved it; he loved her. It was a notion that he still had a hard time believing.

After his own death, he was determined to avoid such mistakes again. Love… who needed it?

Yet here he was, pining after his little lover, and still waiting for her to accept his proposal; willing her to give up all control so that he could keep her for all of eternity. Although, thanks to her little gift of the pocket watch, it had secured herself and bequeathed her last moments to him.

Now with more blood on her hands, she belonged to him. Lydia was betrothed to death… well, that one fact was something that he wasn't willing to share with her.

Oh no, he had made sure to hide that particular volume of text under the floorboards in his bedroom and, to which he begged all of the beings of creation, that she would never discover.

All that's left, was for her to say yes to his proposal. He needed her to say yes and should she do so while still breathing… well, it was all the better for him.

* * *

The dead didn't talk, well, at least not with words. No, their bodies spoke and sometimes they practically screamed when a skilled examiner took notice of certain details.

Prudence didn't want to admit it to herself that all suspicions were more than likely going to point to her best friend, but she had a feeling. It was one that Bertha would vehemently deny, and one that Allen would have shrugged off since he was so determined to find fault within Beetleman.

Yet, there was only one person who followed her train of thought, and it sickened her to think anyone could possibly call Lydia a murderer.

Still, facts being what they were, they were down to three suspects: Mr. Beetleman, Lydia and Jane Butterfield.

She had deduced that the wounds on all the victims followed a pattern; that all of them were done with a driven purpose, in haste, and were executed with a sharp instrument. Most likely the murder weapon was a knife, but in the case of Claire, the sharp object was much blunter and narrower than the previous murders.

No, this murder weapon was far more difficult to pinpoint without any more evidence and unfortunately, no one could really say how the scenario was executed. No expert on the subject could give them a definitive answer, but they did know two things for certain… the depth and the angle of the blows.

With this information, Prudence understood that if Beetleman was the murderer, he would have been a much stronger opponent and would have made deeper impact wounds. Thus, this left the actual murder to be done by someone who was much more delicate in their actions, regardless of the violence.

The actions only pointed to the adversary being female and that left her with only two suspects: Lydia and Jane.

What would have been the reasoning for either of them? None of that made any bit of sense to her, but both of them had their own discrepancies pertaining to the cases.

On top of it, she couldn't forget about the conversation they had during the New Year's Eve ball when Lydia had asked her a series of questions about Claire. It was a line of intrigue that had left her, to say the least, feeling uncomfortable, and yet, it thrilled to think of a world where their mutual bully had no longer existed.

Prudence began to wonder what Lydia would have thought if she knew that she had discovered the truth her genetics. How would have it affected her if she was indeed responsible for Claire's death? Would it have even mattered? Could Lydia be capable of committing such a horrible fate upon her own sister, as she hypothetically did to both of her mothers? Well, for that matter, could Lydia have killed her birth mother in the first place?

Even though the notion was so farfetched, Prudence had read enough books to understand that the most charming and decent of folks could still be sociopathic or even psychopathic. A conclusion that Prudence had come to, was that there were many of those traits of which Lydia had the potential for, especially now that there had been enough time for her to think over this theory quite thoroughly.

While going over her notes and preparing her files for Detective Bath, Prudence only hoped that the suspicion would fall upon Jane or perhaps some other unknown suspect. She had prayed to a god that she could neither prove nor disprove. It was indeed desperate times...

Right and wrong, good and evil, lawful and Illegal… these polar examples had begun to weigh on her as she blurred her results while keeping the original files for her own record. She would let Bath believe the suspect to be male and let him think there was a potential for another suspect.

Deep down, her heart was breaking at the many possibilities and all she that wanted to be answered. It was on this occasion, a one-time thing, that Prudence Miller detested being clever.

* * *

Everything used to make sense to him. He once had a purpose, a drive, and control over everything in his life.

This past year had been an arduous one and had almost done him in, but still, he endured.

He had begun to ponder on the reasons why he did so, but in the end, it had only left him without any clear answers. Was all of it done because of self-preservation? Maybe he had continued down this path because it would have made them proud? Those were the only reasons that he could come up with; the only reasons that made sense.

Then again, perhaps it was because he still needed to prove to himself that he was worth everything that they had selflessly sacrificed and poured into him? He never wanted their effort and love to be thought of as waste. Although, he knew that he could never believe in the same things about himself that they had accepted to be the truth about him. It was a lie that they had happily lived with, and he couldn't break their hearts by showing them the truth. He never could understand why they saw any value in him, but they did and expressed it daily. Now, none of that mattered anymore.

His anchor and sail were now gone forever, and he had been following the currents only on instinct alone. It had been hard navigating this path and some days he questioned if it was worth it anymore. Nothing was ever certain, and nothing brought him joy like it used to. Even books, that he still read with a voracious appetite, could not fill that hole that was within him like it had once done before. It left him on edge, never knowing when the floor would inevitably cave underneath him and take him down with it.

Still, Allen Dichter persevered.

He knew that this was his fate. He had to keep on going while wearing that perfect and infallible smile, his mask, even though each day was still a struggle to find any reason to keep living. He was alone, and that was fine. Human connections and the silly patterns of those that were considered normal were of no interest to him. After all, none of them would understand him past the superficial level that he would allow to be shown. No matter how observant or intuitive other people were, they would never know his true feelings and that was how he preferred it to be.

That was until the day that he had been introduced to Lydia Deetz.

Everything that he once thought that he knew was now in question, including everything about himself. How could one stranger turn his world upside down and yet oddly enough give him hope?

Feelings that he never knew that he could feel were frighteningly real whenever he found himself around her. Ideas, fantasies, desires, and even wishes were now coming forward within himself and that was something that caught him off guard. Those were the sort of thoughts that only normal people experienced and certainly not him. Oh no, he wasn't normal, so why was this happening? There was no explanation that came to light for all of this and logic was no longer in control when it came to her.

There had to be a catch and sure enough, there was. His life had been comprised of one misfortune after another, and he had accepted that was how it was to be long ago. So, of course, the moment that his heart began to come to life around another person, that was when things started to fall apart too.

This case that they were working on, was directly related to the one person who actually made him feel … and he knew that this could be nothing but bad news. She was a light in the dark and yet he could feel the darkness that was thickly shrouded around her. Worst of all, she allowed that darkness to taint her.

This case, Gods, this case was consuming him and making things so difficult. After all, the things that he knew and nobody else would understand or comprehend was not something he would want to disclose. So, he focused on the case and no matter what, he was doing his job as best that he could. He was going to help bring justice to this horrible world in any way that would have made them proud of him. That was the one thing that he felt the need to hang on to. He still didn't understand why that was still important to him, but it was.

Of course, things were becoming more complicated by the day, and so he poured his focus into the case and helping the force, while at home in his free time, he focused on honing his body, skills, and mind. Anything to keep himself busy and not try to think of other possibilities or any matters of the heart. After all, those were some of the few things that he still felt that he had control over in this disgusting, chaotic, and superficial world.

Still, even with all of that, he also found himself to be thankful. Although he wasn't completely sure of it, he prayed that it was so… maybe he finally had a friend and that was all he needed.

The other shoe would drop, but for now, he would cherish that little bit of light in his own darkness too.

* * *

Cold cases were never easy, but if one were to add up all of the clues, a picture would hopefully start to form. Sadly, most cold cases were just that; left cold with not enough evidence, no witnesses, no proper timelines, and no justice to be had for those who needed it most.

As the detective saw himself, he was nothing but a minor character within this mystery and often the right path wasn't easy to find. Still, with a fresh break in the case, the course of action to be taken became clearer to him. For that was why he had made this journey to the out-of-the-way town and hand-picked the team for this special case.

Perhaps others in his position would find the usage of his suspect's closest confidants to be a conflict of interest. He too would have had to agree, but the case of Evelyn Deetz was too complicated to trust just any novice investigator or a fumbling cop who still needed to develop their skills and intuition.

It was for those particular reasons, that Detective Bath had made his choice to expose the secrets behind this killer with this small-town force.

Yet, his biggest concern had to do with the long gap between the first murder and these subsequent killings. What had caused this killer to resume the horrendous activity after all these years?

Upon looking over his team's files, he noticed a connection that he hadn't considered before.

There within, was the report of an accident from several years back on the River Winter Bridge that had caused the demise of a young couple. Subsequently followed by the immediate liquidation of that couple's assets and property; all linked to Jane Butterfield, one of his potential suspects in the case of Evelyn Deetz. Her potential role in the murder was shaky at best, but he had decided that it was time to take a closer look at all of the possibilities.

Would they be able to prove that Mrs. Butterfield had a hand in the mysterious accident? On top of that, her record for selling off the properties of the deceased was consistent, and often with her being the first to place bids on the property.

Pride welled up inside the detective over his team's skill in making this particular connection, regardless of whether or not it had to do with his main cold case.

He wondered briefly at the potential, the possibilities, and the very interesting fact that this town had its fair share of sociopathic individuals.


	21. Thank Heaven!

"Thank Heaven! the crisis—The danger is past, And the lingering illness, Is over at last—And the fever called "Living," Is conquered at last." - Edgar Allan Poe

Peaceful Pines; a place where very few events of notoriety ever occur. A safe town, far away from the bustle of city life. Secluded near a dense forest of evergreen foliage with chilly springtimes that are accompanied by a light breeze of crisp and clean air.

It is the ideal location to let go of the stressors of the world. A person could enter this town and feel welcomed by the friendly folk, who are more than willing to help the new arrivals settle into their home sweet homes.

That was precisely how Jane Butterfield advertised the town that she detested so much. Still, she couldn't deny that the place held a charm to anyone who is seeking solace and silence… and she would know about its silence.

After all, the deceased tell no tales. For once they were gone, dead and buried, with no one the wiser, Jane could move forward to do her job. There was only one other person in town who had known about her dirty laundry, and he had passed on not long after Jane had succeeded in obtaining the Maitland property.

Arty Reagan, the former medical examiner, had often complimented Jane on her smooth tactics for using the twists of fate to propel her victims into an accidental early grave.

Unfortunately, her former acquaintance was no more, and now the young Dr. Miller was in charge.

Jane did not need to develop a connection with the red-headed know it all. If Arty, The Suicide Detector, could not pinpoint the telltale signs of her committed crime, then this fresh-faced straight out of med school child would be at a loss.

The trick, she discovered, was a plausible and common occurrence for an accident, preferably one caused by disagreeable weather. This time of year was a perfect recipe for just such an event to occur.

Summer was just around the corner, and these properties were prime… so she waited and watched as the cruiser of Officers Dichter and Brown's traveled down the winding path leading to the Deetz house before sloshing a mixture of slick car oil onto the Bridge just in time for the vehicle to go through.

She then set a mirror on the floor angled to flash headlights back at the driver to hopefully cause the cop to swerve just right.

Then she skittered away to her hidden car behind the evergreen trees and waited for the mayhem to begin.

* * *

Being in love was, as he often stated, the pits. He could feel the changes between him and Lydia. With each lie or diversion of conversation, he inflicted upon them, his living reason to be would build another wall around her affection for him.

Death could dull most pains but feeling her attempt to put distance between them was like having his skin peeled off his muscle tissue. She was torture.

Pacing her living room, he considered his options while the devil and angel on his shoulder battled it out.

"If I just tell her the truth, maybe it could fix everything. She would come back. She always comes back." Beej reasoned.

Angel Beej nodded and stroked his harp. "Lydia loves you. She has stood by your side after all these years."

Devil Beej cackled. "So we are gonna forget how she bugged you and got you impeached from being Mayor of the Neitherworld?"

A.B rolled his eyes. "She only wanted her best friend back."

D.B continued to cackle, and he zapped A.B's wings, scorching the feathers and twisting the wired halo into a knot.

"Face it, Beej old boy. Lydia knows how to play you just as well as you know how to play her. If you tell her the truth, she'll find a way to break it all off. She still has options."

"Lyds hates it when you trick her!" A.B. screamed in horror. "If she ever found out you were hiding something, do you really think she would let that go? You are risking eternity here Bub. Don't fuck it up."

"Don't fuck it up?! If he doesn't get that ring on her finger ASAP, who knows what'll happen? Lyds needs to either make the kill quota or seal the deal. If ya tell her the truth, you might as well kiss her memory goodbye."

"Eeenough!" Beetlejuice screamed as he picked up his angel and demon by the scruff and promptly threw them out the front door. The two little ghosts didn't even notice the change of their surroundings as they took turns giving each other blows while cussing each other out.

As Beej was about to tell them to buzz off, he noticed some headlights crossing the Bridge in the distance. Through the rain, he could barely make out the car while it turned into an unlikely direction off the main road.

Tapping his fingers to his chin, he decided to take a closer look while his mini counterparts stopped to look on with curiosity.

* * *

"Lydia you should totally take Allen with you." Bertha turned her head to look at Lydia sitting in the back seat of the cruiser.

"I couldn't take either of you from the job. I will be alright. It's just the city, and besides, I've been putting this off long enough. I'll just have to get it over with."

Lydia wrapped her cloak around her a little tighter. Regardless of the heater that warmed the vehicle, a chill, and a sense of concern filled her. She wondered briefly if her power was starting to act up due to some stray thought she may have had in regards to her current situation with Beej.

She felt the cooling of their relationship as drastically as he had, though it wasn't for lack of love. She cared deeply for that old ghost, but trust was something, she was starting to realize, they lacked.

If anything she wished she could go back to being caught up in that haze of Neitherworld magic. At least she could pretend that Beej was the best and most caring person in her life.

But wasn't he? Didn't he still treat her like a goddess when they held each other at night? Didn't he kiss her like she was his last gulp of oxygen?

He knew her body down to its core. He touched with expert care to bring her to the peak of ecstasy. She glimpsed the heavens that would deny her entry after her deeds.

She loved Beej. No doubt about that but … could she trust him? He wasn't the goofy, clueless con man she had grown to admire. It was the thrill of their adventures and the glint of darkness in his eyes that excited her. Darkness, intensity, and danger…. Lydia never considered herself inclined to hybristophilia, but it was becoming clear each time she looked into a mirror that her darkness, her innate need for blood and danger, craved a partner as depraved as herself.

"You shouldn't worry about us. I've been on patrol without Allen hundreds of times." Bertha nudged her partner and fluttered her eyes at him. "Besides he's good to look at when you need to take a break from staring at the road."

"Gee thanks, Bertha." Allen rolled his eyes though he was slightly amused. Lydia chanced a laugh at their dynamic.

"I won't deny the good view." She commented with a teasing flirtatious look of her own, which of course caused a blush to appear though it was subtle. "Honestly, it's just paperwork. I'll probably ask B.J. to join me if he's not too busy."

Thin lines pressed between the lips of both cops though neither said anything on that subject. Lydia noted their lack of response and sighed.

"I know you both care, and I know you're worried, but I'm safe with him. Bertha, you know him. Has he ever given you a reason to think badly of him… aside from his gross jokes."

Bertha turned in her seat and relented her stance; she gave Lydia a sad look. "Between you and me, the Beetlemans have always been a hoot but I'm not so sure…"

"Klote!" Allen shouted, and the car veered, skidded, and slid.

The vehicle, unable to gain traction, spun and slammed into the wall of the crisply painted walls of the Bridge over the river that separated the Deetz home to the town.

The wood splintered while remnants of ice spring forth from their trapped location in the planks.

Bertha grabbed for the dash while Lydia in a panic scrambled for any surface or handle available in the back seat of the cruiser.

Only Allen remained visibly calm even though he no longer had control of their fate as the car tipped its nose down into the icy waters below.

Apprehension filled the three as their hearts beat with a horrible syncopation that foretold their doom.

That was until the car lifted and shifted back onto the surface of the Bridge, allowing Allen to pull the car into reverse and safely settle them under the covering that shielded them from pelting, icy rain.

Lydia saw a streak of ghostly energy blink out of sight in a puff of smoke and random objects. Beej saved them.

Allen swore in fluent Dutch while he struggled to regain his breathing. His tone grew argumentative as if he were speaking to his own ghosts.

Bertha reached over and touched her partner's shoulder while she held the other hand over her own heart. With a violent swat in Bertha's direction, she snapped her hand away and turned to face a white-faced and trembling Lydia.

"I'm alright," Lydia said in a rush. "Allen?"

"There is something in the road." He said darkly.

Lydia felt the shift of his Aura as it struggled between two energies, dichotomic in their polarity. Lydia looked around and noted their surroundings. She saw nothing unusual, but she did hear something — the faint screech of a car heading into the direction of town.

Alternatively, another pair of headlights shone as they approached from Lydia's home. Instantly she recognized the sound of her Doomie's beep. Concern filled the rev of his engine as he near screeched to a stop next to the police cruiser.

Beetlejuice jumped out, without bothering to hide his abnormal agility as he ran to the back of the cruiser, opened the door and pulled Lydia into his arms.

He took a look at the hole in the wall, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Mr. Beetleman.." Bertha began as she stepped out of the car.

"I saw everything!" He snapped, and Bertha flinched. Once he was sure Lydia was safe, he kissed her forehead and turned to the grown woman he once knew as a child. He opened his arms for her and pulled her into a familiar squeeze. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, Burp. Do you have any idea how close a call that was!?"

"I didn't do anything.." but she didn't get to say much more as he gave her another squish before relinquishing his hold on the frazzled cop and rather than take hold of Lydia once again, Beetlejuice eyed Allen scrutinizing the changes in the man's Aura.

"You got here pretty quick," Allen commented as he returned the leveled gaze with a slight upturn to his lips.

"Yeah yeah, I've been waiting for my Babes to get home. What of it?" Beej replied in a chilly tone.

Lydia placed a gentle hand on Beej's arm to get his attention. "I'm gonna head home. Beej?" She indicated Doomie with a nod of her head. The car watched the scene with sad, puppy dog eyes. He wanted so much to check on his owner but remained as immobile as possible for a possessed animated vehicle with an abnormal carburetor.

"Allen," Lydia began. "Bertha. Thank you both for tonight. Do you… that is, will you be alright getting home?"

Allen wordlessly shifted his attention back to Lydia's hopeful expression. She could have sworn that he had aged in that swift moment of near-death, but it could have just been the darkness that was slowly starting to develop under his eyes.

"We will be fine, Lydia. Go warm up. I'm going straight for a bath and a shot of vodka after that," Bertha laughed nervously before nodding to her partner.

As the cops got into their cruiser and pulled away from the Bridge back into town, Lydia couldn't help but take note of the cold air filtering through the covered Bridge. She wrapped herself a little tighter into her warmth.

Her ghost embraced her from behind and once again placed a loving kiss upon her head.

"Come on, let's get inside."

* * *

Silence solemnly passed inside of the vehicle as Allen drove Bertha back home. For him, the quiet was what he needed. At this time, he was well aware of how he was incapable of tolerating any idle conversation. To his relief and sincere appreciation, tonight Bertha seemed to have an unspoken understanding and held her tongue.

However, he did notice her stealing glances at him periodically, but he paid her no mind. Instead, he dwelled upon the details of their near-death experience and the quick examination that he had performed before they had left the scene. He needed to go back and investigate it in more detail as soon as possible. Precious time was slipping away, and the evidence potentially washed by the falling rain.

Unusual details stuck out upon recollection — for instance, the unnatural shimmer of the rainwater. Not to mention the conspicuously placed reflective surface that near blinded the officer and how the item conveniently disappeared sometime between the arrival and departure of Beetleman.

Then there was the shift in energy when they nearly tipped over the edge and into the rocks and quick icy waters below. He didn't like it, but he knew, oh, he knew that there would be no possible logical explanation for an accident.

They were supposed to have died that night, that he knew for sure. He had felt the air of doom that had surrounded them, but that extra presence had stilled it. Miraculously they were given another chance.

Saying his goodbyes, he wished Bertha well to get some decent rest even though he felt hollow as the words came forth. His mask and show of civility were only in place to grant her at least somewhat a worry-free night. Unfortunately, he knew that his own wouldn't be so carefree.

* * *

Lydia places a kiss on the hood of her car, wishing him a good night and sending him home to his garage at the roadhouse. The poor innocent car whined and rumbled his own wordless goodbye as he faded into the ethers and crossed the veil.

Quickly she ducked into the house and used her power to manifest towels and a warm blanket. She wished that she could manifest a roaring fire but the lack of a fireplace in her homemade that an unfulfilled desire. Plus, she didn't dare try to create one with her magic.

Without any indication of his actions, Beetlejuice apparated behind her and embraced her, placing kisses up and down her neck. His ghostly breath sending shivers down her spine as he exhaled his relief into each peck upon her flesh.

"Don't. Ever. Ever. Ever. Do that to me again, Babes." His hands trailed over her in desperate need in what appeared to be an attempt to reassure himself that she was still there, alive and unharmed.

Lydia turned into him and kissed him deeply while her fingers tangled themselves into his damp hair. A slight sound of displeasure at the feel of wet stringy hair erupted a chuckled from Beej as he juiced her towels away along with their soaked clothing.

Her legs instantly wrapped around his body, defying any sense of gravity as she used her power to stay somewhat afloat. Beej had no problems with this since it made it easier to force her against the wall and enter her determined exuberance.

Crying out in surprise and pleasure, Lydia flung her head back, not caring that she would have a bump later that night. Wriggling her hips and writhing against him, she built up her senses. Life… that was what she felt as her blood pumped through her body with each violent thrust.

"Fuck, Lyds. I just can't get enough of ya." Beetlejuice oriented his gravity till both knees were against the wall. He found new traction to slam against her again and again.

It didn't even take long for him, both of them even, to find release.

"Yes, I now feel that it was then on that evening of sweet dreams—that the very first dawn of human love burst upon the icy night of my spirit. Since that period I have never seen nor heard your name without a shiver half of delight half of anxiety."

Beetlejuice chuckled. "No one has said my name."

"Ah, but I will." Lydia yanked on his hair to bring him in for another kiss. "Over and over again, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

The tension so recently released began to build again while he gripped her hips and flushed their bodies together. With a flick of juice, they found themselves on Lydia's bed.

Her ghost pelted her body with kiss after sweet kiss, carefully grazing his tongue over her heated flesh. His reward; a generous moan from the beauty before him.

"I'm not ready for you to join me on this side of the veil Babes. Your body is so delectable. Especially when I can feel your pulse and the rush of your blood." He let out a near-feral growl as he dove between her legs and began an onslaught on her sensitive folds.

Lydia hadn't expected him to move so quickly and giggled between moans of pleasure.

"Beej!" She cried out his name to get his attention but only revived a flick deep within causing her to squeal. "Beetlejuice!"

"That don't work any more toots. Now let me finish my dessert."

Lydia laughed and fell back against her pillows, legs wrapping themselves over his back while the heels of her feet massaged him.

It felt like hours as they reunited and satiated their lust and adrenaline — something they both needed to reassure themselves that the end of their journey had not yet arrived.

He held her close while they curled under her blankets, silent as the grave while he thought about the best way to approach a conversation.

Lydia could sense his need to talk, to get something off his chest. Turning her body away from their spooned position, she wrapped her ankles and legs in a tangled mess with his own while facing him.

She propped herself up on one elbow and tapped his pointed nose with her free hand.

"Out with it." She commanded.

Chuckling, he reached a hand around her and gripped her ass firmly before slapping it hard.

"What makes you think I wanna talk?" He asked with a dark edge to his words.

"When have you ever held your tongue?" She grinned and shook her head with a laugh, "Forget I said that. You know you want to say something. I can feel it."

"Huh… didn't realize you could feel that much."

"Don't change the subject." She reprimanded with a shove to his chest.

The ghost struggled with his thoughts. He took Lydia's hand and kissed it gently.

"I almost lost you today."

Lydia nodded and sighed into her propped position. She waited for him to continue.

"We are so close, and I can't risk you forgettin'." He released her hand and traced his fingers on her face. "Marry me, Lydia. It's our only guarantee."

She felt her body cool at his words, slowly shutting down.

"You just won't let that go, will you?"

Beetlejuice sat up in bed and turned his best puppy dog look on her.

"No, Beetlejuice. I'm not ready for that." Her heart ached when she saw the look of hurt on him. She wanted to say yes. She really did but now wasn't the best time. If only he could see her point of view.

"Lydia." His voice warned.

"Beej. Seriously. I can't. Don't make me change things so quickly."

"What is there to change?!" Lydia flinched at his tone but soon found her ire rising at his audacity to force her into a position she was not comfortable with.

"Everything!" She shouted back. "I barely even know myself! How can you expect me to move any faster than I already have!"

"This is torture!" His voice was nearing incredible levels. "I waited years for you to wake the fuck up to the realities of your true nature and I am not going to waste all that time on some stupid breather jitters."

Lydia's face paled as his words hit her like an icy slap the face.

Instantly realizing he crossed a line, he reached for her, but she pulled back and retreated into herself. She slid off the bed and juiced a long wrapping robe to herself from her closet. She hid her body from him in defense to keep her warring emotions to herself.

"Shit Babes. I didn't mean it." He floated to her, but she turned away from him.

"Put some clothes on." She commanded in a flat tone, not bothering to look at him as his boxers appeared on him.

"Lyds." He pleaded and reached for her again surprised that she would jerk her body away from him as if he had with the plague.

"Don't. I need to be alone." She pulled her robe tighter and fought back the tears that threatened to expose how raw she was feeling.

Beetlejuice flinched and pushed his power to her, but nothing changed other than the incredulous look Lydia spun around and threw in his direction. He tried again, and she narrowed her gaze in a look of pure distrust and anger.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Shit." He growled punched the bedpost, cracking his knuckles in the process. "Come on, Lyds! You gotta understand where I'm coming from."

"And you need to back off for a while. I told you I am not ready and after what you just told me-"

"It was so much easier when I could erase your memory," he muttered darkly to himself.

The stunned look on Lydia's face was the only clue that he had said those words out loud and regret flooded him down to his core. Her betrayed expression cracked him, and he wanted nothing more than to take back those words and kiss her till she caved once again to his touch.

It was not to be.

Lydia walked out of the room, leaving Beetlejuice to run after her, only to be shoved back by the door slamming in his face.

* * *

The weather had thankfully let up into a very light misting but the darkness of the cloudy spring night would not help make matters easier for him tonight. After a quick stop at home, Allen drove at speeds that would have normally gotten him in trouble but this was an exception. This was a race against time.

Screeching to a halt, gravel kicked up then settled when the engine was silenced and turned off. Allen stepped out onto the darkened but wet road just before the covered Bridge where less than an hour ago it was completely intact. Mud muffled the crunch of gravel under his boots as he adjusted his footing to grab something out of the back seat of his small SUV. Hefting the full duffle over his shoulder, he bounced his maglight in one hand then held it tight before turning his gaze up to the impressive house on the hill.

It was like a beacon in the darkness in many ways, both figurative and literal. Noting the lights that were on, Allen thought about how Lydia was somewhere in there. They were so close, but the distance between them felt like an insurmountable wall. That's just how things were, and he accepted that.

Loud but muffled squeals of delight met his ears and gave him pause as he stared up to her home. He couldn't understand why hearing her like that right now made his heart feel incredibly heavy, but it did.

Sighing out his resignation, he couldn't afford to let it cloud his thought processes at this moment. No, he had a duty to complete, and being distracted wasn't an option. He needed to address the scene that was before him and discern the who, what, how, and whys. Death still crept around this place with silent steps, and he acknowledged it with the reverence it deserved.

Somebody had planned this, and the reasons were nefarious, this much he knew.

Walking along the road's shoulder, he scanned the ground with a critical eye. He was thankful that the rain had stopped when he had dropped off Bertha and that the current light misting would not impede him as the heavy rain would have. Nothing appeared to be unusual until he came upon a tiny clearing behind some tall pines. It was there that he found the muddy and deep tracks that traced back onto the road and had flung mud in all directions.

Shining his light upon the imprinted tracks in the mud, Allen found his evidence. In four places were the perfectly intact and deep impressions of where a car had sat and partially sunk into the soft soil. He silently thanked the stars they had not been washed away, let alone not filled with any rainwater from earlier. Pulling out his waterproof notepad, he wrote down his findings before setting the duffle-bag down and digging through it.

With incredible care, he measured the width, length, and depth before mixing up some plaster of Paris. The viscous white slurry spread and filled the imprint as he poured the remaining plaster out. As the cast began to set, he started a more thorough examination of the soft ground in the small clearing. It was then that he discovered a small reddish-pink fluid settled in a small puddle between the tracks where the vehicle had been. Taking note of its position, he understood that whatever vehicle, which more than likely was a sedan sized car, had a small transmission leak. From where the puddle rested, it was a rear-wheel-drive car with an automatic transmission. Just to make sure to cover his bases, he took a sample of the liquid.

He needed to find more evidence. Just this alone wasn't enough to find fault in anything even if he knew better. Finding the vehicle would more than likely give them a break in the case. It would also give him the face of the attempted murderer who had their eye on the three of them.

With even and slow steps, Allen replayed the whole jarring event over and over as he scanned the ground. As he stepped into the covered bridge, the rush of the swollen stream below echoed loudly on the walls. Only a few steps outside of the Bridge, the river was more muted. The contrast was nearly unsettling, but perhaps that was because of the event from earlier.

He knew exactly what he was looking for and where it was on the old wooden planks. Pausing in one particular spot, he stopped to take a sample of the slippery liquid that was the cause for the cruiser's loss of control.

Next, he walked over to the place that he knew that he had seen the mirror-like object. He recalled the item placed on the Deetz's side of the property. But again, as soon as Beetleman showed, it was gone.

Sadly, there was no imprint of the mirror but what he did find was promising. There he found a washed-out but medium-sized heeled footprint. He could only deduce that the person must've set this down in haste because their foot had slipped in the mud before hurrying back to the vehicle.

After writing down the measurements, he found a dry patch under a corner of the Bridge and sat down to ponder the clues. Who would do this? What would someone gain from this? This well-executed 'accident' wasn't like the MO of the previous cases. Was it even related? What motive would any of the subjects have from this particular incident?

Jane, well, he didn't nor couldn't trust, but he would have to look into that further. Lydia was obviously out of the question because she was in the vehicle with them.

Then there was Beetleman. Nothing was right about this. Like the way that he suddenly showed up as if he was some hero trying to save the day. Thinking on it, Allen couldn't help but notice that Beetleman wore a medium-sized heeled boot. Although tonight they were distinctly not muddy so if he had set the mirror down, he had to have been somehow not walking in this weather.

Allen scoffed as he replayed every detail about Beetleman's interactions tonight. Everything about him left a bad taste in his mouth, and he didn't like anything about it one bit.

Loud but angry voices interrupted the night's silence giving Allen's hooking his attention and shifting his thought process. Old homes, like the one on the hill, didn't like to hide anything, did they? Somehow voices always carried through them like a cardboard box.

Whatever the argument was, it wasn't good, but it didn't sound violent or in need of intervention. Tensions and other emotions had to have been high after what had transpired earlier.

The distinctive sound of a heavy wooden door slamming was the last thing that he heard before he glanced at his watch. To his surprise, he discovered that it was much later than he had realized.

He had been in his head for far too long, and those plaster casts of the tire imprints were more than ready to be pulled.

He would have to send off all of the evidence to be analyzed. He had an inkling that this was soon going to come to light.


	22. Darkness There, And Nothing More

"-Here I opened wide the door; — Darkness there, and nothing more." Egar Allan Poe

* * *

"She'll forgive me, right? Eventually?" Beetlejuice as the effigy of Charles Deetz in the portrait that still hung in the Deetz Living room.

The image was carefully tucked away in an inconspicuous corner to fill the space just as Delia wanted. Her paintings were always held in the more prominent locations in anticipation of a collector or curator with a taste for Delia's unique style.

To Beej, this position was the perfect vantage point to observe the ongoings of daily life in the Deetz residence.

Charles remained mute as Beej threw his arm over the shoulder of the image and pulled a cig out of mid-air, already pre-lit. He slowly inhaled the sweet nicotine that offered him no real pleasure. It helped him think and occupied his hands and mouth in a ritual left behind from his living days.

The past to him was as clear in memory as ever. Give or take a few dips into the Neither-magic that allowed him to forget the betrayal. If only briefly.

"See the thing is, Lyds just doesn't understand where I'm coming from. I've seen it before. Killers get cocky. They get the best training from yours truly, and they go and fuck it up."

He watched Lydia enter the room, slow and graceful as she packed up her belongings for the short trip to the city. He pitched for her to call him. To ask him to go with her and keep her safe from the unfeeling and uncaring estate executor.

"I can't lose her, Chuck. You knew it, and I know it. That gal is one in a million, and I got you to thank for keeping that twisted mind of hers intact. I can't imagine Mama Deetz being so generous to her dark side. As for Mrs. D? Well, she kinda had it coming."

Snickering, Beetlejuice ashed his cig and resumed smoking while his eyes became absorbed by Lydia hypnotic sway. Her slender figure and generous curves teased him while her skirt swayed around her legging covered thighs. She crossed the room with determination, and he started to feel smug at how quickly she approached the portrait, only to pass it, leaving him baffled as she picked up the telephone. Shit, he thought, she is calling a cab.

Surprising him, he realized the number she dialed was not the cab company. Instead, she had pulled out a small business card with numbers written on the back. Beej leaned out of the frame to get a better look at the word scrawled on the card. Home, it was written in handwriting he was not too pleased to see.

"Uh, hi. It's me." Lydia's voice sounded meek and perhaps a little wounded. "He's not coming. We sorta … well, it's complicated."

Beej wanted to growl and scream at the interloper over the phone that Lydia was his and to hang up.

"Yes, please." She answered a silent question that he strained to hear. "I am already packed, and I have a place to stay. I'm sure there is room for you."

Beetlejuice felt his jaw drop. Lydia was asking the guy to spend the night!? She wouldn't… she couldn't….

"Thanks, Allen. I owe you one." Lydia smiled brightly and then added her goodbyes.

Boiling with an internal rage he hadn't felt since Prince Vince tried to make his move on Lyds, Beej struggled out of the portrait and stood behind her.

"You are not going with him." His voice was dripping with menace while he flung his cigarette into the ethers.

Lydia flipped her hair back and rolled her eyes. "You can try to stop me, but that wouldn't exactly help you get back on my good side." She walked away from him and up the stairs leading to her room.

"Lydia!" He cried and rushed after her. "Lydiaaaa! Get back here at once and call him back. I'm going with you, and that's final!"

She paused with her hand on the banister and slowly turned to face him. "Pact or no pact, you don't get to tell me what to do, Beetlejuice. This life is still mine."

"But you gave me your last minutes," he cried out as he pulled the watch she had given him and waved it to her.

"The end of my Life! Not now, the end. Get that through your thick skull. Just because I love you, it doesn't mean I am going to do everything you say at the drop of a dime." Lydia glared at him, and he flinched. "I need some space. You can either stay here and brood while I'm gone or you can just go home. I'll call you when I get back."

At a loss, Beej slumped down. The watch, along with his arms, rested at his side while she climbed the last of the stairs and slammed the door to empathize her anger.

"Fuck." Beej looked at the portrait of Charles Deetz as the image spring to life.

"Well, what did you expect? You knew she was volatile. Don't break her heart; she is still my baby girl."

When the portrait reformed, Beetlejuice shivered. "Now that is one creepy use of the juice."

* * *

The sound of Allen's car pulled up the gravel road leading to the house while Lydia spent her last minutes waiting in the living room, her beloved anthology of Poe in her lap while she sipped a warm cup of tea. Upon hearing his approach, Lydia closed her book and walked her cup to the kitchen to rinse and put it in the drainer to dry while she was away.

Silence in the Deetz home made it easy to hear the car door open and close, along with the steps being taken before she heard the rap of knuckles on her front door. Lydia found it interesting that he still used her front door when Bertha and Prudence learned that she would be more apt to find her near the kitchen entrance out of habit.

A change of pace was nice; she thought while she opened the door and met the officer. Dressed casually in a warm jacket and jeans, he didn't look at all like the cop she had grown accustomed to but rather like any other man. Handsome and welcoming, though she could sense his discomfort radiating off him as he stood there waiting for her to say something.

"Would you like to come in?" She asked, taking note of how his eyes scanned the entryway. His eyes fell on her travel bags and pressed his lips together in a thin line.

"He's not here." She said with a sigh barely audible but even that subtle expression of disappointment didn't escape him.

"I noticed." He stated flatly though not unsympathetically. "If you want to talk.."

He began to offer his ear but stopped when Lydia waved her hand in an exaggerated manner. "It's nothing to worry about. He's being an idiot. I sent him home."

Allen watched her carefully, noting the disappointment and sadness that plagued her. The urge to comfort her hit him, but he refrained, maintaining control of himself.

"Let me get your bags," he offered.

Lydia stepped aside and let him pick up her few bags. It was only for a couple of days, after all. She could manage with essentials. In the meantime, she went around her house, turning off all the lights in the lower part of the house while she used her power to close her upstairs bedroom door.

The sound made both of them jump, and Allen threw her a rather shocked expression. She laughed it off and said, "This house is full of surprises."

"The house or the owner?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Her voice dipped into a low sultry tone while she walked beside him and bumped him with her hip playfully. Allen could only chuckle in response and pick up the last remaining bag off the floor.

* * *

"To spy or not to spy, that is the question." Beetlejuice recited to himself while he held up Jacques skull in his hand. Dramatically posing in reference to his longtime friend in death, William Shakespeare.

"You do know that it is not the proper quote for this moment of the play." Indignant at the treatment he was receiving, Jacques voiced his displeasure. "Put my head back on my shoulders and get yours out of your ass, Fils du Pute!"

"At least your gettin' better at the English insults but I gotta say if anyone had a bitch for a mother, it was our Little Lydsy." Beej tossed Jacques head back onto the skeletal body. He wondered why his neighbors hadn't attempted shapeshifting now that their bonds were broke thanks to Miss Shannon's generous donation.

Cut short — all of them. Beetlejuice was never content with how their lives played out. Brief flickers of potential snuffed out before they really had a chance to thrive. Nothing could compare to how disappointing it was to see them fail when they were so damn close. So close to help him break free from the monotony and cluelessness of the magic that trapped them all.

Lydia was nearly there. She was so close, and he needed her to be on his side. All would be for nothing if she broke away from him now and worse since he played the one hand he knew would keep her close. He gave her his heart.

"If you are that worried about what that connard d' un homme is capable of then take care of him. You never held back before."

"Yeah but then the heat is on. Lyds is so close, Jaca-mold. I can't risk it as I did with Ginger. Shit, she still holds a grudge. Speaking of…. what the hell is, going on with you too?"

"Je n'ai aucune idée."

The skeleton tugged on the blue top covering his bones; he looked disgusted with himself. With a force of energy, Jacques attempted to reform his flesh but stopped when he realized he needed to recover from the constant exercise the magic put him through.

"Aww come on, Bone head, give me the juicy details. You two have been pushin' and pullin' since you've been in this hell hole."

"No thanks to you." Jacques snapped, frustrated by his lack of ability. "Look at this… my body is a mess. No flesh. No logic behind how this body can eat! And yet, I do."

"Twitchy eight legs, isn't having much success I take it?" Beej would get anything to distract himself from the fact Lydia was alone with the guy he originally encouraged her to seduce. This wasn't going as planned, but at least he was able to wake up The Neither-dorks.

"She refuses to dance. No more of this forced compulsive putain de merde. Nous nous sommes fait enculer!"

"Whoa there, slow it on the crazy. One problem at a time and then I'll teach ya how to get that figure back into screwable shape. I'll fix Ging too so you can work out that anxiety."

"You can be such a bastard."

"There ya go! English, just like I remember!"

* * *

The ride to the city would take anywhere from two to three hours, but Lydia found herself feeling incredibly comfortable to be away from the drama that was beginning to build and fester in the walls of her home. The one place she never wanted to leave, and now all she wanted was to put some distance between herself and the lies.

It hurt terribly that Beej would continue on this trail of half-truths and deception. Didn't he trust her judgment? Did he doubt her love for him? Was she just not good enough to be allowed her own self-counsel and autonomy?

Nothing could describe the pain it took for her to willingly walk away from him while he was so angry and the jealousy …. the jealousy baffled her more than anything. Wasn't it his plan all along for Lydia to get close to Allen? To earn his trust and get into the fold of the case to keep them one step ahead?

Nothing about his change of attitude made sense to her aside from his need to control her, and that needed to stop. She was going to have to take control.

This was the first step.

She enjoyed Allen's company, silent and steady. He - unlike Beej- had control over his emotions and she was able to let her self relax and close her eyes while they listened to music that most in Peaceful Pines would consider uncouth and possibly demonic.

It wasn't The Cure by any means, but it still felt more comfortable than listening to the sugar pop that currently dominated the radio. The lyrics to the song brought a blush to her cheeks despite the deep message being deliberately hidden under the provocative language.

Allen also seemed to be enjoying the tunes as his energy levels matched her own.

Odd, she thought, that her empathic senses seem to have grown considerably along with her ability to use magic. It was always there. A special skill that helped to sense when Beetlejuice was close to blowing his top. She knew when to step away or to calm him down.

Now she realized that the ability had been muffled all along. Apparently right along with memories that she resented losing. How could he do that to her? Deliberately erase memories of their friendship, of the entire relationship with no intention of giving them back.

He hadn't been able to do much of anything other than fucking her senseless since she had given him the watch. Blessing and a curse….

The song ended, and Lydia smiled at the view outside of her passenger side window.

"Delia always hated music like this," Lydia commented.

"Parents rarely like the music of their kid's generation."

Lydia turned her attention to him, watching the intense way he kept his eyes on the road. She considered his silence. It was a stark contrast to Beej and their noisy road trips. This felt normal. Something a regular person would be lucky enough to enjoy and never know there are people in this world who live in a state of mental chaos.

Perhaps now would be a good time to learn more about her traveling companion. Starting with her own knowledge, gleaned from every glowing source of information — the encyclopedia of local gossip by Bertha Brown.

"Parents often dislike more than just music." She adjusted herself to face him, slightly sitting on her hip and head leaning against the headrest. "Mothers can cause more pain with more than just a simple dislike for aesthetic and music taste."

"Oma and Opa encouraged me to find my own music."

An obvious deflection. Lydia watched for any physical tell that matched his spiritual discomfort at this line of questioning. More half-truths… she sighed internally.

Lydia determined that this might be on trait Allen and Beej have in common. Not as if she were any better. Here she was, a serial killer. Blood on her hands and no regrets about her deeds. She didn't miss any of them.

"I'm glad they did. Not only do I have a great view like Bertha promised, but I get to listen to the music that touched his soul." Lydia felt her lips quirk at his reaction. Confusion and a subtle pleasure at her words. She could feel the battle inside him as he kept his eyes on the road.

"It bothers you." She stated her observation. "You don't really like it. The flirting. It just really annoys you when we tag team."

"I am getting used to Bertha's teasing when we are on patrol. When it's both of you... I just don't know how to take it. I'm not even sure why you guys do it." Allen focused on the road as they merged into another lane. "I am flattered, though."

Lydia shook her head at his guarded answer.

"Bertha is a shameless flirt. All it takes is for one cute guy to be in the room and she turns on her charms. As for me? It's hard to say, but if it bothers you, I could always stop."

Lydia's flirtatious smirk was quickly followed by the batting of her eyelashes. She wouldn't be rewarded by any reaction because he avoided her gaze and swelled on the road before them.

"I've seen her in action." Allen shook his head, bemused by his partner's insatiable need for romance and gossip. "It doesn't bother me when you do it. I know it's not serious."

"Who said it wasn't serious?" Lydia felt the uncertainty rise up from inside and nearly punch her with an extra dose of doubt.

A quick glance from him and a subtle prob against her energy let her know she had touched a nerve. His heart rate even picked up a bit.

"Now I really don't understand. Why me?"

"Hmm... let me think. You have good looks, patience to keep Bertha as a partner, a calm aura …. Yeah, totally nothing there."

With a dramatic sigh, Lydia there her arm up to her forehead and reclined back against the seat, "Alas, my heart will forever be tormented by unrequited love. For it is true that I am the lamest of all flirts."

She caught glimpses of his eyes darting between her and the road. Not to mention the subtle pokes into her metaphysical space. His uncertainty reflected hers in a way that she never anticipated in someone so controlled. She almost felt sorry for him that she had done such a terrible job of getting his attention.

At least one more similarity. Subtly doesn't work on either Beej or in Allen. They do very poor jobs of reading between the lines. Lydia was starting to wonder if that was just a male trait.

"You really don't understand…" She felt herself smile at the uncomfortable energy the flooded the car. "Would it help if I said that we both actually like you? All of us, if you include Prudence. When we care about someone, we tease and joke, but unlike Bertha, I don't flirt with everyone, which is why BJ was so jealous about this trip. You can take that however you want, but I'm still going to be sitting here in this car with you driving to a crazy city where people party all night and the noise never stops."

"I'm just here to help you if I can. So don't hesitate to ask."

There was a sweetness in those words that surprised her, and it touched at something she had been missing for so long. She accepted his offer with a gentle touch on his arm, and a surge of grateful energy flushed out from her fingertips.

His reaction was far less visible and had Lydia not had the abilities she would have missed it, but it was there. A light burst of affection hit her. That was perhaps the most honest emotion she could glean off him, and it sent a soothing balm against her aching heart.

Beej hadn't been that sweet and tender in a while. It's been passion and lust. Blood and aggression fueled their unions at a bestial level but this tenderness. This rare flush of unconditional sentiment was sorely lacking.

She missed her playful best friend. The one who would hold her when she was upset or overwhelmed by the sensations of the world. How he could calm her nerves when even she didn't understand the underlying source of her rage and fear. Her best Buddy BJ. Her first love and lover. She would give anything to have his devotion without an ulterior motive.

She would give anything to have an unconditional connection.

With a sigh, Lydia turned her attention back to her riding companion.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Lydia felt his hesitation over the next words. He seemed a bit startled at the out of the blue question, and he took a good long moment before he replied.

"I have never had a relationship."

Lydia nodded. "Bertha mentioned something about that, but I mean love. Not a relationship. Beej always said that love was the pits. I think I'm starting to agree with him."

"Why!?" Allen raised his voice, incredulous that anyone could say such a thing. "I've always longed for a love that was more than love."

Lydia curled her lips into a gentle, sympathetic smile and said gently, "and all I've loved, I loved alone."

"You can't say that, Lydia. You had a loving family and friends who would do anything for you. If I were to have a love, I would treasure and make them feel special and wanted. I'd give everything if only they would love me in return."

Lydia felt the raw emotion pour out of him before he bottled it up with a cough and a clearing of his throat.

"My Opa and Oma- my grandparents - they showed me what it could be between two people who were devoted to each other."

"You're lucky. Neither of my mothers loved my father the way he deserved, and he deserved it more than anyone on this earth. Far more than even I do and if they truly did love him then maybe everything would have turned out differently."

Shock crossed him, causing him to take his eyes off the road.

"That can't be true! Bertha and well... everyone in town said your mom doted on both of you for as long as you've lived in Peaceful Pines." He shook his head in disbelief at her words. "Yes, he deserved love, and so do you."

"Delia was a master of deception and knew how to put up appearances." Lydia sighed and leaned her head against the window. "People in our town only want to see the light, but you and I know differently. There is a darker story in every happy ending.."

"I know that all too well..."


	23. Madmen of a harmless nature

Had the routine of our life at this place been known to the world, we should have been regarded as madmen —; although, perhaps, as madmen of a harmless nature.

Ch 23

Usually, a female scream could be considered a compliment to Beetlejuice. Be it the cries of horror at the sight of gruesome death, a belting of pain, or the beautiful sounds of a woman in the throes of ecstasy...

This scream was more of a nuisance radiating from the halls of the Roadhouse.

Not that Ginger cared. She was enraged. Her hands had finally begun to reform, and the minor details of her memories began to fill in the murky blanks. Along with with that, a pure hatred that she had been harboring for her neighbor that went beyond trifle roommate irritations.

This scream was for the sudden realization that the beloved dancing spider was once a woman who made some terrible naive choices.

"Beetlejuice, you are despicable!" Ginger hollered as she came stomping into the living room. Her tap dancing heals flew across the room at him with force. She had good aim, hitting him directly in the eye with the point of one of those monstrosities.

"Ah, What the hell is your problem!?" Beej growled and threw her shoe into the burning flames emanating from the fireplace.

"You used me! You sick twisted bastard! You used me! And Lydia? Poor Lydia...You are using her! You horrible beast…. I'm going to kill you! You will be sorry you ever existed. I'll cut off your bits and feed them to a sandworm, I'll-"

"Eh go get caught in a web. I'm already dead. Nuthin' you and your pretty poisons can do about it toots."

Beetlejuice rounded on her faster than she expected from such a lazy ghost. His hands took her by the throat and squeezed with a force that could have crushed her windpipe had she still been alive.

Ginger screeched at the pain and gave a kick with her tiny, slender leg right in his groin. He dropped and reached for her again. Missing as she dodged him with the grace of a trained dancer.

"You better not hurt her, Beetlejuice, I swear to all the most unholy demons that I will find a way to end your sorry existence. Ugh…. I can't believe I used to…" Ginger wailed and collapsed into the sofa, her arms covering her face though they did nothing to control the irritating sound.

Beej shifted in place while he watched his former protege meltdown. Disgust and shame flooded him, but he wasn't ready to admit that he had done wrong by the dame.

"You know, I've killed people for making less noise." The gruff voice of the Monster Across the Street drew BJ's attention to the living room window.

"Yeah, and I've killed people for no reason. What's your point?"

"The little lady there is mighty pissed at ya. Can't say I blame her none either. Miss Lydia is a special gal, and you ain't got the best track record for successful killers."

Beetlejuice wished for a window that he could slam in the brute's face.

"Mind your own business, fuzzball."

"No, I reckon I won't. Miss Ginger here ain't doin' so well, and you know very well why. She didn't deserve what you put her through. Poor delicate little thing she was."

Ginger sniffed. "He never told me he cared about me. I knew better but, but, but…" another round of tears.

"For cryin' out loud, Ging! It was only sex! You were the one beggin' for it in the first place!" Beetlejuice rounded on her with disgust.

"And you used me to get a pass into the real world! That's all any of us were to you. A token for your kill count. So you could escape the compulsion and keep sane until your next victim."

Beetlejuice felt his blood boil, and it didn't help that the former monster was nodding in agreement.

"Why I reckon poor Lydia is gonna end up here like the rest of us before she even gets the chance to finish. What did ya promise her?"

"Fame, Like me?" Ginger asked meekly.

"Success and wealth?" Came the voice of Jacques. Beej hadn't even noticed his presence in the room.

"Security and land?" Monster chimed in.

Beej scoffed at them. Simpletons, he thought. Lydia was far more unique.

"Come on, tell us. What did you promise the girl?" Jacques traversed the room and scooped up a still mopey Ginger in his arms. She willingly sat on his lap with her two humanoid legs across his own in an attempt to feel as small as her former spidery self.

Beej watched his friends. Yes, friends, because at the core, these murderers were still the same poor souls who followed him blindly in exchange for a worldly good.

With a sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and floated to the hallway, "She wanted her dad to forget and to be happy…"

The group fell silent as they watched his spectral body move farther down the hall.

"... at least until he died a natural death."

The room was left silent only to be disrupted by a soft sniffle.

"Well, I'll be…" the monster spoke softly.

"Incroyable," Jacques added. "He actually fulfilled his part of a bargain."

Ginger rested her head against Jacques' chest. "Do ya think we were too hard on him?"

"Ginger, Non. If anything, I think you could hit him again with another shoe."

The others looked at Jacques confused, but the former skeletal being just laughed.

"Beetlejuice is in love with his newest little killer, and he keeps scaring her away. One more good kick in the head would do him some good."

* * *

The location of her parent's old apartment was easy enough to find. The two-story levels of the single unit reminded Lydia that she had indeed grown up in homes far more impressive than the average kid.

A wave of nostalgia hit her hard when she entered the living space. It was clean. Perfect. Her father tried his best to keep the property in perfect order in case they needed a place to stay while in the city. This only happened maybe two or three times before they bought the house in Peaceful Pines.

Delia refused to set foot in this place. The home where her predecessor, the former Mrs. Deetz, had died.

Lydia grinned at the feeling bubbling up inside her like a surge of nostalgia that was long forgotten. This was where she first met Beetlejuice, the home of her first kill.

This was where her story began.

What struck her more than the feeling of homecoming and warmth of the subtle magic left behind from their pact was how small everything felt. The hallways were not as wide, and the stairs were not so daunting. Lydia went straight to the second story.

She entered her childhood bedroom and looked around. She knew instantly that the tiny bed would not fit her, but that didn't bother her one bit when she noticed Annabel Lee laying upon the well-made bed. Peaceful as the dead, the old forgotten and beloved toy was dressed in a lacy black and purple trimmed dress.

"How did you get here?" She asked Annabel, but the doll understandably remained silent. Lydia picked her up off the bed and returned to the hallway, door wide open to let the air circulate in the stale sealed up room.

While Lydia was upstairs reminding herself of the Layout, Allen had placed their overnight bags near the large out of date sofa that might have at one been a statement of style. Nothing in this living room resembled the style of the house in Peaceful Pines. This was another's aesthetic, and it was evident that whoever decorated would have clashed head to head with the Deetz's he had grown familiar with.

Lydia looked over the edge of the banister down to Allen and called to him.

"Restrooms are up here if you want to freshen up." Lydia beamed down at him. Her entire being lifted in the excitement of being back in this old building.

Allen didn't exactly look comfortable; she realized and decided that once they were settled, she would celebrate her return by going to the place she often knew her parents went to on their dates. Lydia could sing if she could hold a note at how happy she felt back around all this energy. Raw. Dark.

Her bond with her ghost felt extra special when she chose to explore the last room — her parent's bedroom.

Lydia heard Allen take the last of the stairs, and she pointed in the direction of the restroom used by herself and guests.

She had never been allowed in her parent's bathroom, and now, she felt, she would take her time and claim that space for herself.

"I could live here," she said softly when she walked into the room. The stain of her mother's blood no longer drenched the floor, but the energy was there. Lydia could feel death emanating from the fibers of the rug.

She knelt down and rubbed her fingers across the clean and soft texture. As if Lydia's powers were a portable blacklight, the blood began to glow. Intoxicating power flooded her as she absorbed the remnants of the energy in her first kill.

"Hello Mother," Lydia said to the air as she felt the spirit pass her, but when she looked, she saw nothing. She only felt the sadness and disappointment of the ghost before it left her alone.

* * *

Worry and doubt flooded Bertha as she left her patrol shift and drove to meet up with Prudence. Guilt pressed down hard on her while her mind ran through possibility after possibility, but nothing helped easy the rock that builds in her stomach.

The last few years filled their worlds with tragedy, and Bertha, though she dealt with her own pain, harbored a deep concern for everyone around her.

She cared, and it was that care that led her to report her findings and tamper with evidence fraudulently. She could only hope her best friend in all of the world, aside from Lydia, could forgive her.

"Golly, it's freezing outside," Prudence said as she jumped into Bertha's vehicle.

She didn't feel comfortable taking the cruiser when her partner was the one who usually took it home in the evening. Instead, she drove her own car to the station and back between shifts.

"Yeah, you would think it would start warming up soon," Bertha commented with a sarcastic smirk.

"Oh, don't be like that. You know what I mean. I thought the rain was going to flood the river that night."

"Nah, it won't be like this much longer." Bertha gave a nervous giggle.

Prudence glanced out of the corner of her eye and joined in on that giggle. "So much for brave wild women. I'm really glad you guys are all ok. You all are taking it much better than I would have."

"I don't know what I should be feeling."

"Bertha…"

"Do you know?" She turned to her smaller friend. Eyes wild and brimming with tears. Her emotions once again on her sleeve. "Have you figured it out yet? Do you know that if w-we… we…"

"If you crashed, then the killings might have stopped." Prudence sighed and nodded. "I just don't want to believe it."

"What are we gonna do?"

* * *

The multitude of bodies and high energy would typically have set off a series of tingles and stress factors that would alienate an introverted person like Allen or even someone like Prudence, but Lydia felt the world differently now. Something inside her craved that wild untamed and raw energy that swirled around her.

She could feel the blood pumping in the bodies on the dance floor. Music seeping into their writhing bodies and raising the vibe to a near bustling level.

This was a place Lydia had always wanted to see with her own eyes. She heard stories from her parents as they talked about their dates to their friends and often commented on how coincidental it was to run into someone they knew. Regardless of the fact they all running in the same circles, they seemed surprised to meet up.

Silly, Lydia thought as she took in the magnificence of the crystal chandeliers. This would be worth blowing money on, and of course, it was worth treating her travel companion whose expression formed into a neutral mask. She felt a satisfied twinge in knowing her empathy let her in that he was indeed impressed by the grandeur that surrounded them.

She grinned at the revolving circular dance floor, itching for at least one dance. The feeling was complicated as she wished for her best friend and their crazy impromptu dancing. She knew if he had been here, there would be no hesitation as he would take her in his arms and sweep her across the floor in a swirl.

That was just not possible because regardless of her desire to be with him, she was still mad at his inability to trust her with the truth.

Allen cleared his throat when they settled into their prime seating location.

"This is amazing. I've never seen anything like this." His mask cracked, and she could feel his eyes on her and the subtle urges of desire that came from his excitement.

"First time taking a night on the town I see," she teased with a flutter of her eyes. Her exposing neckline dipped even lower as she leaned forward to scoop the skirt under her rear before settling in her chair. The flush on his face was worth taking her mother's gown from the closet of the old apartment.

She felt like a goddess with the power of one at her fingertips.

"I'm not so sure you should be dipping into your funds like this…"

"Allen, relax. I hardly ever go out, and this is just as much for me as it is to thank you. Besides, this place is full of history. There was a romantic story about a couple who used to frequent this place ritually before it met a tragic and beautiful ending."

Intrigue slipped past his defenses but was held silent as their waiter came to the table. Ordering both food and drink, Lydia smirked at Allen's disbelief at the price point their meal only speaking up when the waiter left them to their own devices.

"Dit is te duur," he muttered to himself.

"Do you want to hear the story?" She asked in an attempt to distract him from the trivial nature of monetary value. "Unless you don't believe in ghosts…"

"I believe," He said, cutting her off with very little emotion to his words. They felt heavy and finite with an understanding that he knew more than he had ever let on before.

With a satisfied cat-with-cream smile, Lydia began, "In the days of the glamorous roaring twenties, there was a couple who were desperately in love with each other. Both high on the social ladder and extremely well-loved by their families. They were the golden children of the line, and expectations were high, but alas, they were not to find a blessing to be together. You see, just like many couples of old, there was a feud. "

Allen quirked a smile, knowing where Lydia was going with this. "For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Lydia laughed, sending tingles down her companions back while a flush began to spread across his cheeks.

"I see you are familiar with the plot."

"Who isn't?" He chuckled nervously.

"It appears they weren't because they defied their families' wishes and went out nearly every night. This was their usual haunt." She smirked at the word while Allen rolled his eyes at the pun.

"So when did things turn?"

As Lydia was about to answer, the waitress returned with their bottle of wine. She filled their glasses with the crimson liquid. Along with an assurance their dinner would be on the way shortly, she left the two alone once again.

"That's where history comes out to play. 1930's early and without warning the family businesses went under since neither could rationally work alongside the other. Fortune has gone, and trust funds depleted, and both were looking at a lifetime of poverty. They decided that it would not be and that they couldn't survive apart when the gal's family announced her marriage to a stranger since he still maintained at least some sort of financial security."

Allen watched Lydia's wistful expression as she told her tale. She wasn't sad he realized, but she longed, ached for romance. This tale was more than just a ghost story. It was a wish.

"They came here and danced. The final night together before the place closed down and the music stopped. After the last patron departed, leaving only one bartender to serve them one last glass of champagne. It was then that they dropped cyanide tablets into their glasses and offered one to the other, a lovers' pact."

Allen felt uncertain about how to take the way the woman across from him looked at him. Was she trying to tell him something, or was she merely seeking comfort?

Bemused by his silence and by the story she had just regaled, Lydia reaches across the table to touch his hand.

"The best part of it all is that they say the couple still dances here every night. If they deem someone unworthy of their favorite hot spot, then they gladly use their power to remove them. They have been known to dance with partners and vanish in the middle of the dance floor, particularly when they know a couple is meant to be together. Either in this life or the next. Not one woman has ever left here unwillingly with a man she didn't trust."

Allen pulled his hand back with a nervous chuckle to cover his brief moment of awe at her depth.

"Well, if we should get separated tonight, we should set up a meeting place so I can at least take you home tomorrow."

"What makes you think I don't trust you?"

Allen could thank his lucky stars that he didn't have to answer that when the waitress arrived to serve their dinner, and their conversation turned to the delights before them. The music shifted through the night from the ambiance of sensual rumba rhythms to deep and passionate tangos.

Neither complained about the proximity of the dancers as the energy surrounding the dance floor grew to palpable levels. Lydia could finally understand why Beej had often referred to "being anxious" because, at this point, she felt the delightful tingles that brought a pink tint to her fair skin.

Her eyes glanced in the direction of her dinner companion, remembering how BJ wanted her to find ways to get closer to the cop, how he wanted Lydia to use her body and whims to get Allen to reveal secrets and hints on the murder investigations.

While she looked over his muscular build and handsome features, she began to wonder if the concept was so bad as she initially thought. She rather liked Allen. He radiated similar energy to her own and perhaps even a little bit of her ghost — something familiar, something warm.

Her mind began to swim with the combination of music, ambiance, energy, and wine. Lydia considered, for perhaps the first time, that she didn't want to get close to the man merely for the sake of her criminal career.

There was, somewhere inside, a curiosity that she ached to feel. The concept of a living body writhing and thrusting between her legs.

Her blush deepened, and she reached out with her senses. She didn't hold back her intention when she sent a burst of sexually charged energy Allen's way. She delighted in the instantaneous surprise on his face when it hit him.

Ah ha, she thought to herself, it wasn't a coincidence. He can feel me.

"What's on your mind, Officer?" Lydia asked with false innocence.

He was silent for a moment while he attempted to recuperate his thoughts. The normally stoic expression betrayed him as even the slightest flinch caught Lydia's attention.

He looked at the cleaned plate in front of him while he mentally calculated how to divert the conversation.

Lydia lifted her glass of wine and tipped it back, draining the last of the liquid though she never took her eyes away from Allen.

"That story you mentioned earlier. The one about the couple. Who told it to you?" Allen nervously glanced around to distract himself while Lydia continued to send a flood of tingles his way.

Not to be fazed by the turn in the conversation, Lydia leaned her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands.

"My father, of course. Daddy was very good at telling stories. He understood me like no one else: before I met BJ, of course. I used to sit on Daddy's lap while I held onto my Annabel Lee."

"Your doll was named Annabel Lee?" He couldn't help the smile that formed, "I don't think I have ever met someone so dedicated to a single author before."

"With me, poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion." She quoted before waving down a waiter to refill their wine glasses. "Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality."

Allen laughed, "Two in a row! I thought I had a good memory, did you memorize his entire collection?"

Lydia shrugged a shoulder and accepted the generous refill of the red liquid thanking the waiter as he left. She also appreciated the lustful gaze of the young man when she adjusted herself — unwittingly granting both men with a glimpse of her slight cleavage. She batted her full lashes and turned the burning sensations up a notch.

Allen began to glow with a flush of red across his skin.

"I have been known to be a good student and study hard in the subjects I enjoy. That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful."

A hitch in his breath let her know that she spoke words that broke through his shields and felt the surge of need only to have it blocked off the instant she felt it. Frustrated by this evasion, she locked eyes with him to let him know she was at her most sincere.

"I would gladly share what I've learned."

Allen gave a nervous chuckle before scooting his chair back, "I appreciate your generosity, but I need to excuse myself for a moment."

Lydia swept her eyes over him, assessing his current posture and the static of aura. She grinned in satisfaction that she was able to send that much juice his way and still feel strong. As far as she was concerned, her experiment was a success.

"I'll be waiting." She said with deliberate ambiguity and watched him head in the way of the lobby.

Oh, Beej, I wish you could have seen that. She mused. Though perhaps ….

Lydia looked in the direction Allen had left. Concern growing deep inside as to why she was even considering going through with seducing him. Was it for the reasons Beej put forth or … did she want him?

An ache pulled at her heart when she thought of her ghostly lover. Once again, she rested her head in her hand. Tracing a finger along the rim of her full glass with a sigh. She felt the lustful mood fade from her, draining like a douse of lukewarm water down her back.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little, Lydia Deetz."

Lydia's eyes shot up in shock at the familiarity of the voice.


	24. Loneliness Unbroken

"Leave my loneliness unbroken" -

Ch. 24

Panic surged through Lydia's body, as rough hands hefted her from the table by the wrists, tipping over her glass of red wine in the process. Paralyzed with shock from the harsh treatment, she was unable to protest as her family's long-time friend, Otho Fenlock, pulled her onto the dance floor. The now-empty table was perfumed with the aroma of a well-aged vintage that clung to the air, while the crimson liquid seeped in and stained the table cloth.

With a tutting, reminding her far too much of Delia's constant disappointment, he began to speak with a familiar air of arrogance. It was one that permeated throughout and emanated from the personalities of those that were closest to her parents.

"Little Lydia Deetz, all grown up. Why I remember when you were barely up to your daddy's knee." Tightening his grip, he smirked, pleased with the wild look of shock that Lydia still held upon her face.

"Oh, how difficult this all must be for you."

Slowly her senses returned, while Otho clung to her tiny waist and wrist as they joined the small throng of dancers. The undulating congregation was made up of a compilation of various friends, lovers, and family members. The legion of revelers could neither see or feel the terror that was slipping through her essence, leaving her virtually isolated. Without exposing her secret, she was now rendered practically powerless in this immense sea of people.

However, there was another option:

Beetlejuice.

She could call him.

No, Lydia remained firm in her stance to leave her lover stewing in his own guilt and jealousy. She would have to dig into her own strength and trust in herself.

"What do you mean, difficult?" Her tone dripped with disdain.

"All alone in this world and with so much responsibility thrown upon on your plate. Although, Delia did believe that you'd be able to handle it." His self-satisfied smirk put Lydia on edge, and it only grew with the knowing leer that he gave her. "She certainly changed her tune rather quickly, didn't she?"

Before she could protest, Otho's grip increased to near painful levels when his hand constricted around her delicate bone structure.

"Cutthroat city like this, a young orphaned girl like you… Why, had it been any other child, I would have been concerned. The business world is full of heartless sharks, Lydia, and they are always sniffing around for blood. My, how you would fit right in."

Her trepidation grew with the intensity of his stare, and a fear began to bubble and brew. It whirled within her body until it provoked something inside to awaken. With a spark, a fire began to burn away at the thick tar-like bundle of energy, and with it, her confidence returned.

"And what exactly are you implying, Otho?"

"Oooh, how Evelyn was right about you. You were always such an odd child. It was like something was never quite right. No, mind you, it's not necessarily a bad thing. After all, who would want to be like the majority of these mindless plebeians." He quickly motioned with his free hand to those around them. "Since the beginning, I have always had my own theories about you."

Lydia didn't like the way that he looked at her; a meal or a meal ticket, she wasn't sure, but it made her sick. As she attempted to pull away, an uncomfortableness permeated the air, and she began to feel the pressure of her anxiety's walls closing in.

With a jerk of his hand, Otho prevented her attempt at escape.

"I've heard talk about all those horrible tragedies that are now happened in your neck of the woods. It's rather unsettling, don't you think?"

His eyes zeroed in on her, as her heart sank with understanding. He knew.

"How?"

"Very simple really. You see, I happen to be an expert in the field of the paranormal and the criminal mind. It's easy when one can identify the symptoms and signs. Don't think I didn't know about all of your little burials with those dead animals and bugs. Your mother was quite concerned. She was positively beside herself." Briefly, his half-lidded eyes glanced to the other dancers. "Just who exactly were you trying to fool? Just because they never noticed you talking to thin air…"

"Just get to the point already." She hissed. Trying to pull away once more, she was prevented by the change of his hand's position and the music's tempo. The beat was now too quick for them to stay in such proximity to each other.

"Tut tut. Impatience is such a nuisance. I'm here to offer you some help... For a fee, of course. You see, I know all about your little hobby and the circumstances around poor Evelyn's untimely end. Even I knew that Delia stood no chance once Charles was out of the way." Otho smugly bobbed his eyebrows at her. "Now, I can just walk away after, if let's say 30% of your collective shares were signed over to me. Oh, don't look so surprised. I know that you're going to visit your lawyers tomorrow and I can meet you…"

Before Otho could continue, a chipper voice interjected, while someone stepped in between Lydia and her captor.

"Ah, here you are! Why didn't you say that you wanted to dance? Lucky for you, my dance card is wide open." Stealing Lydia, and catching Otho by complete surprise, Allen hefted her up into the air for all to see.

While still holding her high, he began to twirl them to the music as she began to laugh. She was both relieved to be free and nervous about how much attention they were attracting. Instead of focusing on the crowd, she fixated on the smile that was on Allen's face. It was wide and open, and it had reminded her a lot of the last time that he had rescued her.

"You have a habit of breaking up awkward moments with a dance." She commented while noticing a woman who gracefully brushed passed them to drag Otho away to dance.

"I had a little help this time," Gently setting her down; he continued to move with her as the rhythm began to pick up the tempo with a Latin flair.

Lydia recognized the salsa moves and began to follow along, and with her curiosity piqued, she wondered where Allen had picked up this skill.

"You are an incredible dancer." He said before seamlessly spinning her around and then back again. "I can't remember the last time that I did this move."

"The… Texas Tommy... is my… favorite," She said between spins.

Pulling her into his arms, Lydia gave a little wiggle against Allen's body. As the excitement of the twisting and turning faded, she continued to samba with him while taking in her dance partner. From his eyes, she noticed a darkening around them, and they burned with an intensity that she had rarely seen from him as he repeatedly glanced toward the exit.

"What's wrong?" She asked, only to be met with a quick scrutinizing assessment. "Allen?"

"What was that all about anyway?"

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed away and began to dance on her own. Taking her hand, he spun her back to his strong body.

"I don't want to talk about it." She said in a clipped tone.

"Then, please, just dance with me." Wrapping an arm behind her, they rotated in place before he released her from his protective hold.

Her body was so hauntingly lithe and graceful. Allen couldn't take his eyes off of her, the subtle gestures, and the sensual technique that she presented with each step. This was the kind of dancing that only came from constant practice and a passion for movement. She was a goddess on the dance floor. He couldn't understand why she continued to dance with him. While he was confident that he could execute nearly every move with precision, it didn't ease his mind.

Desire poured off of her in waves when she curled her body against his, causing his heart to flutter. He needed to keep his composure. Whipping back again, her smoldering eyes met his as she threw a leg around his hip and jutted him intimately close to her. Not wanting to let her down, he needed to prove himself and his skills.

Beyond a doubt, his desire for her burned brightly within his heart, while the rest of his body begged him for more. No, he wasn't going to give in to their rapacious wills no matter what her energy was tempting him with. His heart thumped against his chest as he swallowed, gained control, and made his next move.

With her leg still wrapped around him, he hefted her bum, pushed her closer with one hand and the other on her back for support, adjusted his stance, and dipped her in one seemingly fluid movement. His eyes never left hers as he focused on the music, and her look of surprise turned toying expression. It pleased him more than he thought it would.

Pulling her back up with just one arm, he took a step backward, and with a snap, he rotated his whole body 90 degrees and back. After he clapped his hands, he slid over closer and pulled her body against his with only his strength.

While he tried to distract himself with the dance moves, his mind sang a mantra: This is only dancing, nothing more. If they weren't dancing, he could never touch her in such a manner. Still, it thrilled him to be so close to her.

Closely dancing around each other in a small circle, he grabbed her by the waist and tossed her high into the air. As she fell, he gently caught her, then swung her through his legs and back, only to have her land on her feet.

After that, she amped up the sensual moves, and he, in-kind, matched it with ferocity. He couldn't help feeling that she was toying with him. Perhaps she was testing what he knew? The energy that flowed out of her was more intoxicating than wine, and he was happy to be near her.

Eventually, the music ended, and they were left panting with their eyes still locked onto each other's. Breaking the contact, Allen averted his and stepped away to put a little distance between them.

"Should we go sit?" He inquired while pointing, but he wasn't sure if he saw a disappointment in her face from his question or not. With only a nod, she answered, and they exited the dance floor to return to their table. By then, a waiter had come to clean up the spillage and was refilling their glasses as they made their approach.

The grateful smile that Lydia gifted the waiter flickered a tiny flair of jealousy in Allen, and that alarmed him. He never used to feel anything for anyone except his attachment to Opa and Oma. Now there was this… and he certainly didn't like this new part of him. Would he ever get used to these feelings that she sparked within his being?

"Oh! There you are mistah!" A sharp voice called out. Coming towards them was a lovely woman dressed in a rather authentic 1920's dress, her hair done up with delicate curls, and a headband that gleamed at every catch of the light. "I see you were able to rescue your lady friend. Oh, and she is one ripe tomato too! Well done."

A gentle laugh escaped him when Lydia gave Allen a sideways glance.

"Now listen, my guy wanted me to flag you down because," she paused, then laughed while waving her hand in the air. "Never mind, he's on his way over."

As the woman said this, a man dressed in a fashion similar to the era as she seized Allen's hand and heartily shook it.

"All taken care of, my good man. No need for ruffians like that stinking up the joint." The man beamed.

In reply, Allen chuckled and retrieved his hand from the enthusiastic gesture.

"I appreciate your help."

"Think nothin' of it; we are glad to do what we can. Isn't that right, my love?" He said, pulling his girl by the waist towards him until she was flush against his side. The public display of affection instigated a subtle blush to touch her cheeks.

"Sure thing." She gave a bashful little giggle.

With a final wave, the couple walked away hand in hand to disappear amongst the crowd that was still on the dance floor.

* * *

Beetlejuice could now feel things that he never thought was possible when he made his deal with Lydia. Love and all that mushy shit aside, he was feeling stuff that didn't exactly have anything to do with his emotions.

Like, when there was that surge of power that came when Lydia took a kill, or even when she would soak her hands in blood. Then today, there was that pull of trepidation and pain that filled his chest, and even hours later, it still made him very nervous.

He wanted to look in on her. He was desperate to do it, but as soon as he started to cave, the feeling dissipated, and he was able to move on with the tormenting of his neighbors.

Never had Beej been so glad to be dead. Tormenting them was enjoyable when they were lost in the fog, but now, their killer instincts were back, and the games that they played were much deadlier…

And fun.

Ginger had already tried to poison him once, and he cackled at the way that his ghostly body rejected the toxic substance. The Monster had even taken a shot at him for target practice and had nailed him right in the head.

Still, they were all well aware that nothing could do any lasting damage. They were a family, no matter how twisted the arrangement had become. The centuries of loneliness in a world gone mad could destroy a soul, but BJ knew the tricks to get around it, thanks to his former mentor.

Speaking of, Beetlejuice had a strong feeling that at any minute, he was going to be paid a visit from the one who had given him a ticket to the other side.

The Roadhouse was in an unnatural state of comradery that had been lacking since the awakening. Jacques and Ginger found they had a stronger attraction to each other that bordered on annoying in BJ's mind. He didn't blame them, even if they were canoodling on the couch and watching Beetlejuice's tv, instead of being in their now shared room.

Lazily watching the developing romance from his reclining chair, he indulged in a Neitherworld brew. Vices were more fun since he now didn't have to worry about keeping up appearances. As he casually reclined back, he gave his crotch a well-deserved scratch.

"Charming." A gruff, elderly female's voice interrupted the silence.

"Yeah, well, someone had to take care of the itch." He snarked. "What brings you to hell, June-Bug."

"Don't delude yourself, Beetlejuice. This isn't hell, and you know it."

With a quick motion that had surprised Jacques and Ginger, Beetlejuice shot out of his chair and pointed a deadly finger in his mentor's face.

"You know nothing about life in this realm! You abandoned me here!"

"I tried to save you, you nitwit!" She retaliated verbally rather than physically. "Look at what you've done with your existence, you pathetic fool. Duping innocent offenders into repeat violations. None of these people here should have gone beyond that first kill!"

"Oh, like you know, a dark heart better than me?" Mercurial as ever, Beej laughed as an unamused Juno looked on, while the two in the corner chose to slip out of their embrace and vacate the room.

"I am a caseworker, Beetlejuice. I thought you would be the same. As a potential suicide…. You were supposed to be my assistant, my replacement! I could have moved on after paying my debts to the eternal departments."

"A fat lot of good that did ya." He rolled his eyes and returned to his chair in a flop.

"You're right. You've given me more paperwork than any other ghost in this section of the hereafter. You are the biggest mistake that I have ever made, and I have consistently paid for it over the last few centuries. I never should have made that deal with your sorry ass."

"Don't do me any favors, Junnie."

"This isn't a favor. This is a warning." Juno stood up tall. "Finish what you started with this Deetz girl before her soul ends up in damnation. Then stop meddling with the living world. You have your companions. It's done."

Beej felt the fire inside of him slowly deflate. "Lydia isn't like the others."

"No, she isn't. For once, you found yourself a real killer, and your deal with that girl prevented her from committing the most heinous of acts. I hate to say this, and it's burning more than the hole in my neck just thinking about it, but when you did, you actually brought justice to the balance. By preventing Deetz from remembering her first kill… Well, to put it bluntly, by tampering with this girl's memories, you made up for all those countless souls that you doomed to an eternity in purgatory."

There was a silence as those words sunk in. His mind ran through every deal that he had ever made. Every single deal that had ended too early had landed those souls in the Neitherworld. Even worse, for every deal that had been broken, it left him without any idea where those souls had been sent.

Beetlejuice surprised Juno with his contemplative state. Closing his eyes, he turned away to hide his pain.

"How many?"

"All of them," she said calmly, "with approximately a quarter of them in the pit."

With a sigh, Juno softened her tone. "You know how it works, Beetle. I can't take back a sentence once it's been granted, but I tried my best to save those who weren't completely tarnished. Breaking a contract has its consequences."

Repeatedly pacing the room, Juno watched as each of his steps became more determined.

"What's gonna happen?" He said suddenly, facing the older ghost. "What's gonna happen to Lydia? You've seen her file. Was she going to end up here, or was she going to the pit? How bad would it have been?"

Beetlejuice paced again before returning to his chair. Slumping back into the cushion, it was as if he was no longer able to keep himself up or afloat. He was worried, and genuine fear etched into his brow.

Noticing how quick he was to change his tone, she smirked. For the first time since she had known him, this was the most vulnerable that he had been since the night that he had killed himself.

"Don't tell me that you've fallen for that psycho?" Closing her eyes, she offered a silent prayer to the upper gods for this hypothesis to come to fruition. "By the gods, if you marry her…"

"Don't start!" He snapped.

"You know the laws against those types of deals. If she is still alive when.."

"I mean it, Juno! Don't go there. Lyds has no clue, and I ain't about to blow this. She doesn't need to know."

Disapproval marred her already aged face, showing how the decades of disappointment and endless paperwork was beginning to affect her manifested state.

"I see. Back to the old tricks and manipulation? Don't you ever learn?"

"Go back to the paper-pushing bureau and preach to the newbies. I have things under control."

Pressing her lips together, Juno used her power to manifest a cigarette and began to indulge the compulsive reaction of the Neitherworld's magic.

"I don't know how you stand it." She commented, before taking a deep drag and releasing it. "I suggest that you get that girl to marry you before it's too late. Immunity from damnation doesn't come around every day, and like it or not, that girl will do you some good. You may not see it, but she has tempered you, just as you have tempered her. The sharp edges that you both share will dull as long as you swear not to take on another protege."

"No promises."

"Swear to it!" She snapped. "If I see your name on anymore deal packets, and it's not a marriage certificate to Lydia Deetz, then I will personally come back here and render you a eunuch for all of eternity. You can say goodbye to any kind of itch after that."

Beej felt his eyes nearly pop out. "I swear! No more deals! Shit, Juno, where the hell did you pick up such a violent streak?"

"I may be your mentor, but even the apprentice can teach their master."

With a satisfied and smug demeanor, Juno vanished in a cloud of swirling smoke.

"Bitch."

* * *

Laughter floated in, breaking the silence in the apartment from the other side of the door. Spiritual energies and residual hauntings alike could always sense the presence of life and, of course, the pulse of emotions.

Her caseworker had told her that the apartment she would be haunting wouldn't be visited much, aside from the occasional appointment from the cleaning crew. This left Evelyn Deetz with very little to be concerned over. That was until the arrival of a young couple.

At least Evelyn thought that they were a couple until she got a closer look at those big brown eyes and that ghostly complexion. The way the girl moved had an elegance and gentleness to it that any unsuspecting individual would assume her to be a lady of well-bred status and proper training.

If Evelyn had a heart that could still beat, she would have had a cardiac arrest on the spot the moment that she had realized just who the young woman was. It was her daughter and her assassin. It took every ounce of control not to allow herself to become visible, for she knew that Lydia had inherited the gift that came from the generations of sensitive females in their family.

It was both a gift and a curse that had been passed from mother to daughter in her family. Yet, she was genuinely surprised to feel similar energy coming from the young man that was accompanying Lydia.

Earlier, after the two had left, her curiosity had grown. Now, as she heard their approaching footsteps and their high spirits, she faded into a mist and hovered within the environment.

* * *

When his companion stumbled for the third time since they had stepped out of the car, Allen realized that Lydia was completely drunk. More times than he was comfortable within such a situation, she had touched him at every opportunity and entered within his personal space.

Chuckling with a good nature, he caught her and helped her stand upright. "Maybe we shouldn't have had that extra round."

"Pfft, I can handle it. Beej has stronger stuff stashed at his place..." She trailed off while placing her head upon his shoulder. "You smell nice."

"And you… are not being honest with how well you can hold your liquor."

Standing up, Lydia rested against the wall while Allen held his hand out for her keys. Relinquishing it into his palm, she closed her eyes with a smile on her face.

"Your smell... It's like…. Cedarwood and warm showers." Her face flushed a deep red when she opened her eyes and saw the bemused expression that Allen was giving her.

"Poetic. Now, let's get you to bed."

"Mmmmm," She rumbled with a laugh. "I thought you'd never ask."

By the time that the door had opened, his eyes widened when her words had caught up to him. Rotating herself off the wall and into the apartment, Lydia gave herself a twirl and let her shawl drop to the floor.

"That's not…" As he began to protest, she closed the distance between them, pressing her body against his, and put a finger upon his lips.

"You know what else I noticed about you?" She cooed while trailing her finger across his lip while he froze, stock still. "You feel… Like I feel."

Nervous, Allen removed her hand from his face to wrap his arms around her petite form, then held her hands in place.

"Lydia, what exactly do you mean by that?" He cleared his throat and asked, giving her hands a gentle squeeze when she tried to wiggle them free. As her eyes grew wide with excitement, it instigated a fire of need to burn from inside of him.

"You… see things. You… know things." She tried to get the words out, but she stopped when his hopeful eyes dimmed just slightly. "We can sense… things."

"I see." He calmly said but refrained from adding more. Releasing one of her hands, he twirled her around with the other to face away from him. "Time for bed, Ms. Deetz. You need rest."

Grumbling and groaning, Lydia let out a sigh of disappointment. "Fine."

Carefully aiding her up the stairs, he ensured that she made it to the top without any incident. From the highest step, he observed the way that she stumbled into the room that she had chosen to sleep in.

With a wince, the slamming of her door made his heart drop.

* * *

Evelyn had felt it too, and the guilt that was radiating off of the boy was vibrant. She could sense how much he cared for Lydia, and based on what she had just saw; she knew that it had taken all his control to not fall into the spell that her daughter was weaving.

Lydia had that charm and the ability to hide the darkness within that sweet and innocent exterior. Charles had fallen for it, Cordelia had fallen for it.

Regret built inside of the spectral entity as she floated her essence into her bedroom. The scene of her death, as she had come to know it, no longer felt like a tomb of silence and bad memories. No, she had come to terms with the reality of her short life.

Had she not had the affair, then perhaps Lydia would have been different. Had Evelyn been the mother that her daughter deserved….

There was no sense in the 'what if's' now. Her little girl was now a grown woman, and even though she was intoxicated and unstable on her feet, she was still a beauty. Dangerous under the surface, Lydia was the oleander flower. Admire her, love her, and treat her with reverence, but in the second that she felt threatened, or that her essence would be taken away, she could end life without a care.

The moment that Lydia had drifted off to sleep, Evelyn manifested herself. As she listened, her daughter mumbled a name; it was one that she had feared ever since her caseworker had mentioned the danger that came from associating with him: Beetlejuice.

Closing her eyes, she offered up a silent prayer for Lydia, while gently brushing her fingers across the cheek of her sleeping murderer.

"My darling child," She said gently and placed a breath of a kiss upon the girl's head. "I wish that I could change time and save you from this life. I'm sorry that I didn't act sooner."

Mumbling something in her sleep, Lydia rolled over. A sardonic smile crossed the ghost's lips as she resumed into her ghostly mist to venture out of the room so that she could let her daughter sleep without the influence of her spiritual energy.

She found comfort in the walls that she traveled besides, curling around the corners, and along the banisters while she descended the staircase.

For a moment, she observed the young man while manifesting into a vaguely corporeal state. It was a form that allowed her to move throughout the apartment, especially while the cleaning crew mucked about and gossiped over the strange murder that had occurred upstairs.

The man that rested on the sofa was handsome and was reading rather than sleeping as she had presumed. He was a better match for her daughter, more than any man that Evelyn had ever shared time with, but still, there was something else. There was a darkness lingering beneath the surface of his good looks.

Much like Lydia, the temperament was there and awaiting its trigger.

Drifting closer until she was behind the sofa, she dared to get a better look, all the while being careful to not get too close to the young man, just in case he could feel her presence.

"Of course, like would attract like." She spoke out loud and shook her head at the odd coincidences that had soaked the universe.

Sitting up, the man looked over the edge of the sofa, and directly at her. Yet, his face was neutral and had not even an ounce of fear.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked her.

Stepping back, Evelyn was shocked that the man was able to see and hear her while she was in her spiritual state. She began to wonder if Lydia could comprehend the extent of the young man's skill.

Berating herself for being so foolish, she started to fade with an apology on her lips.

"Don't worry, you didn't startle me. I couldn't sleep and, I admit, it would be nice to have someone to talk to."

Intrigued by the invitation, she regarded the boy with curiosity, and stopped to rematerialized, only this time into her true manifested state.

"It's been ages since I've had anyone to talk to." She said meekly. She didn't feel like herself and hadn't since her traumatic death.

"That must have been very lonely." He calmly said, as if talking to the dead was as simple as speaking with a neighbor. His charm was slightly unnerving and yet, she found herself being drawn in by this conflicted soul.

"I've been told I'm a good listener," he continued. "Please, have a seat."

From where he had been resting only moments before, he sat upright and offered a space for her to sit, yet she couldn't bring herself to join him.

"Loneliness is a constant companion. I am used to it, though I am not used to men having the gift to see beyond the veil. Who are you?" She asked as she floated closer, finding comfort in being on the opposite side of the coffee table where he had placed his book.

"I understand that sort of loneliness well. Honestly, I am no one." He replied, and his placid smile had a disarming effect, while she also had distinctly noticed that he said nothing about her evasion.

"You can see and hear me, even in a lower manifestation."

"Ah, that. I inherited my gifts from my Oma, my grandmother." A glimmer of sadness radiated from within his eyes as he mentioned someone who must have been dear to him.

Evelyn nodded at his clarification. "Then, you know who I am?"

"Yes. You are Evelyn Deetz, Lydia's mother. I have seen photos of you before. I must say, she looks incredibly similar to you. It's almost uncanny."

"She has my gifts. Passed from mother to daughter, for as long as the women of the White family has graced and cursed this earth. What of your parents?"

"Neither of them had the gift." He briskly replied. "I guess I was just… lucky." As he spoke that last word, she could hear the conflict and hesitation within it.

"It's a blessing and a curse." She said while closing her eyes. If she could cry, she would, and even for a spirit, the pain inside was brutal. "Lydia was cursed from the instant that she was conceived. It was a stupid and reckless moment of passion."

"Curse or blessing, it's all about how you choose to see it." Feeling his pain, it was as clear to her as it would have been for anyone else's emotions when she was an empathic mortal woman. Only in death, it was amplified, and Evelyn understood that the poor kid had fallen in love with her daughter.

With a mother's tenderness, she smiled as she spoke. "You may not believe this now, but a darkness lurks in a beauty like hers. Be careful to guard yourself from the violence that rests within you both."

From within him, there was an instant emotional surge, but it was vanquished in the blink of an eye, leaving him devoid of any emotion that she could feel. The intentional blockade caught her off guard, and even more so when his kind expression brightened up a few more watts. His face did not match up with the silent void that seeped from the barrier that he had internally slammed down.

"Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light." He countered but his eyes were gentle as he spoke. "I thank you for your concern. You are such a kind and loving soul and I can feel how much love you have for your daughter."

Indeed, it was a wall; Evelyn sighed to herself at the loss of her connection.

"All love can be lost on a moment of hatred...', no, that's not right. 'Years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute.'" She spoke to herself as she remembered the lines from some of the many books that were left behind. Those were once stories that she held so much distaste for, starting when her husband had naively shared them with such an impressionable child.

"Charles indulged her, but his love was so very blind that he never saw…"

Based on the mask that he had put on, Allen was confused, yet she could see the cracks of concern peak through.

"Love can easily put the blinders on oneself." Allen shook his head with a smile. "Not you, though. You're a practical person. Nonetheless, you cared more than anyone, didn't you? Even in life, you must've felt very isolated."

Not responding, she instead looked up towards the room where Lydia was sleeping.

"What do you know about my daughter's past? Have your senses told you anything?"

"I try not to pry. I don't like to use my senses like that unless it's needed." He closed his eyes. "But it's clear that I don't know enough. Would you care to share anything that I should know?"

Pressing her lips tight, Evelyn didn't want to speak too soon. "Your darkness matches hers... You have yet to notice the blood that drips from the hands of the guilty; those hands that will show how far a person will go... or has gone."

He paused as a look of apprehension slipped past his mask.

"Even if that's so, there's still good. Her darkness could not possibly…" Abruptly stopping his hurried sentence, he inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled. Finally, he continued. "What happened?"

Analyzing the ghost with concern, she could tell that he understood that she was withholding something more. It was something that he was desperate to learn.

The boy was either willfully blind, like her husband, or perhaps he didn't have that particular gift yet.

Sitting forward in his seat, Allen pressed the matter further. "What exactly happened here? There is an unusual energy that oozes off this whole building, but it starts in here. I could feel it before even entering, and then, at one point, there was a strong burst of it."

"She has charm and is capable of love, but I was too late. Charles only learned the truth when he found my body. The old fool lost consciousness, and then... they forgot."

Cryptic messages were hard to convey, and she could see that he was trying to piece things together. He started to soften those walls again but maintained the void of emotion keeping her at a distance from the questions and doubts hidden within.

"What did they forget? I want to help."

"I don't know how you can do that. The damage is already done. There are many ways this could end though the result will always be the same. She will tell you, or you will die, perhaps both, but in the end, it's the ghost who wins."

"The ghost...". Allen jaw set girm while he grit his teeth together. "Evelyn, I know it wasn't a burglar who murdered you. Who did it?"

A gentle laugh escaped from deep within the spirits core. Such a simple question but yet, so complicated a topic. She was beyond help, and even if she did reveal the truth… what could this young man do to right the situation short of ending her daughter's freedom?

Evelyn recalled those last moments of her life where her little girl offered her mother the tiniest of escapes, and yet Evelyn refused to see it as anything more than a child's curiosity. If she knew then what she knew now….

"I wish I could forget, but I won't be able to take away that look of evil intent. I made many mistakes in my life. Death has given me time to reflect on where I went wrong." With a look of longing in the direction of her sleeping daughter, she let out a breath of ghostly air. "Betraying those I loved and withholding truths had always been a flaw of mine, and though I could tell you, I wouldn't be able to balance my flaws. I can not do one without the other. I'm sorry, but I can't speak about what happened."

Conflict battled in both while they each searched for a way to help the other understand the levity if the situation. Where Evelyn couldn't bring herself to say the words, Allen was never one to comfortably pry into someone's personal life. In the end, it was Allen who took the step back, feeling it was more important to keep this spirit on his good side.

"I can respect that." He said after a moment's silence. Evelyn's energy relaxed while he continued, "For what it's worth, I'll protect your daughter as best as I can."

Evelyn nodded at his claim and offered him an apologetic smile as she stood and approached the young man. She reached out to touch his face but held back at the last second, realizing he was not about to drop his mask and let her sense anything beyond the facade he projected.

She took a step back, retracting herself and her energy till her body began to fade into the mists, leaving Allen with parting words, "Like attracts like. Sometimes making a deal with death can be better protection than a shield around the mortal coil."

Evelyn watched Allen for a moment more while in her mist form before taking refuge in the walls of her home. Being dead didn't make anything easier.


End file.
